


Péché Originel

by cloudcathedrals



Category: EXO (Band)
Genre: Action/Adventure, Alternate Universe - 19th Century, Alternate Universe - Historical, Alternate Universe - Royalty, Alternate Universe - Steampunk, Gen, M/M, Romance, Sky Pirates, theres no actual historicity though its just me making things up
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-12-21
Updated: 2017-04-13
Packaged: 2018-05-08 03:51:27
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 13
Words: 80,541
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5482304
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/cloudcathedrals/pseuds/cloudcathedrals
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Crown prince Sehun has spent his entire life in the royal family's floating palace, isolated entirely from the surface world for the past sixty years.  The world as he knows it, small though it may be, is shattered as he is thrust into a life of adventure, smugglers, airships, rival nations, and a dangerously charming rigger named Jongin.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. A Beginning

_Long ago, Sehun, your great grandfather's great-great-great grandfather King Sehun I ruled Corbenice from the surface.  One day he decided the kingdom needed a palace as beautiful as the rest of it, and so he started building Paracielle, your home._

_He brought together all the sorcerers of the kingdom and had many more visit from other kingdoms, and together they conducted a feat of magic unrivalled since the ancients, permanently suspending an island of earth in the sky.  Finally, he was able to start constructing what would be the most beautiful palace on Earth._

_It wasn't for another forty years, under his nephew Sehun II, that it would be completed.  The Kings of Corbenice ruled for many more years from above, and the Air Palace of Paracielle became renowned far and wide for its beauty._

_Unfortunately, the tragedy of beauty is that there are always others who covet it and wish to take it for themselves.  Over time, technology had begun to replace magic, and as sorcerers died out, less and less took up the mantle, until there were too few to ever again cooperate to create anything as wondrous as Paracielle.  As it became clear that Paracielle was truly one of a kind, the rest of the world became less and less friendly, growing jealous of the accomplishments the Kings of Corbenice had made._

_Finally, it became so severe that your grandfather, King Sehun IV, decided to withdraw from the more mundane matters of ruling on the surface, creating a council to rule below in his stead while he would devote the entirety of his efforts to maintaining diplomacy and peace with the other kingdoms._

_And one day when you’re grown up, Sehun, it’ll all be yours.  You’ll be Sehun V, king of the most beautiful palace in the history of the world.  Seems kind of fitting, doesn’t it?  A beautiful kingdom for a beautiful prince._

_Now sleep well, my sweet boy.  Who knows what tomorrow will bring?_

 

◊ ◊ ◊ ◊ ◊ ◊ ◊ ◊ ◊ ◊ ◊ ◊ ◊ ◊ ◊ ◊ ◊ ◊ ◊ ◊ ◊ ◊ ◊ ◊ ◊ ◊ ◊

 

Awash in a sea of satin sheets and goose-feather pillows, Sehun was not feeling any particular desire to arise just yet.  Unfortunately, his desires were rarely taken into account.

“Up, time to get up, your Grace," Junmyeon was clamouring, off in some seemingly distant realm of Sehun's brain.  "The King has requested your presence in an hour."

"Ghhgh." 

"Zitao, please open those curtains, it's far too dark in here."

Boot heels clacked over the marble floor, crossing to the far side of his room, and once they stilled they were followed by the sound of the curtains being drawn aside.  Sehun initially tried his best to ignore it, but as the late-morning sunlight flooded the room it became impossible to ignore, worming its way through his eyelids.  As Zitao exposed the last of the four enormous windows, Sehun’s eyes flickered open.

"Ah, grand, His Grace has seen fit to bless us with his presence."  Sehun loved Joonmyun; his mother had passed away when he was very young and his father had never spent much time with him, leaving the valet as the closest thing he had to a real parent.  That didn’t mean he didn’t infuriate Sehun sometimes, however.  "Did you hear what I said about your grandfather wanting to see you?  You have just under an hour to be washed and dressed.  I will leave Zitao to attend to you, _please_ do not be late Sehun."

"I won't," Sehun reassured him, voice still groggy from sleep as he stretched out cat-like in his tangled pile of sheets.  The pained expression Junmyeon wore told him exactly how much faith his valet had in him.  "I won't!"

"Thank you," Junmyeon replied, clearly still unconvinced.  After standing by the door just long enough to ensure Sehun actually arose from his bed, he departed through the tall oaken doors, leaving just Sehun and Zitao together.

Zitao still stood in front of the window, almost a silhouette against the boundless blue sky behind him.  He was tall boy, only a year older than Sehun, though the prince had managed to close the height gap quite a bit within the last two years.  But while Sehun was slender and pale, Zitao was all lithe muscle blanketed by a flawless layer of beautiful tan skin.  It was a look complemented by his Lionheart uniform: black leather that clasped tight over his chest and fit tight around his waist, leaving his shoulders bare as if to further emphasize the disparity in their builds.  Below that he was wearing simple fitted black trousers that were punctuated at the bottom by knee-high black boots.  The one ornamentation allowed him by position was his cape, held by a clasp over each shoulder and stretching down his back to behind his knees.  No other Lionhearts still lived: his grandfathers’ had passed from age a few years ago, and his fathers’ had died before Sehun had even been born.  But from the portraits he had seen of previous Lionhearts, none had ever worn the uniform as well as Zitao.  Seemingly contrary to his intimidating physicality, he was always easy with a smile and quick to laugh.  His eyes, dark and catlike, always shone with a mischievousness that Sehun never had much trouble drawing out. 

Once Junmyeon left, Zitao strode over to the wardrobe to retrieve an outfit fitting for Sehun's appointment with the king.  "I think he gets more and more fussy every morning."

Sehun laughed a bit at that.  "I think so too." With Junmyeon safely out of site, he flopped down on his stomach, limbs splayed over the mattress, and let his lungs deflate in one big long sigh.  "I don't want to see Grandfather."  Zitao glanced at him over his shoulder with a sympathetic look.  Sehun didn’t want sympathy, though, or at least not Zitao to pity him, so he tried to lighten things a little.  "Come on, you're my Lionheart.  You're supposed to protect me from any and all threat."

That part, at least, was true.  Zitao’s family, the Huangs, were near as old as the Oh Dynasty; how the two came to be entangled was forgotten, though most seems to agree the Huangs were not Old Corbenician but instead from some distant land.  Somewhere along the way they had proved themselves as worthy warriors, however, and ended up swearing into the service of the Kings of Corbenice.  Since then, whenever a new heir was born, the Huangs provided their own most recently born child and the two boys would grow up together.  The Huang boys (or, on the rare occasion, girls) were given the title Lionheart and trained from an early age until they had achieved the peak of martial prowess, in order to fulfill their greatest duty: protect the heir's life at any cost.

"Unfortutately, an audience with your grandfather doesn't qualify as a Lionheart-worthy threat.  Now come on, your bathwater's going to be cold."  Zitao walked over to sit on the side of the bed and Sehun sighed once more.  It was always too hot at first anyways. 

When he made no move to stand back up, it was Zitao's turn to sigh.  Rather than nag again, he stood with his back to the bed and collected both of Sehun's wrists in his hands, pulling them over his shoulder so he could hoist Sehun into some sort of rag-dolled piggyback that left his legs dragging lazily in their wake.  Sehun would have helped but he decided he liked this more, so he nestled his nose up against the back of Zitao's neck and enjoyed the way he could feel back muscles flexing with effort against his chest, and let Zitao haul him to his bath.

 

———

 

Forty minutes later, after lots of scrubbing and primping and pulling on the cream breeches and green and gold tailcoat Zitao had selected, he was ready for court.  Zitao walked with him, a comforting presence by his side even in silence.

Outside, the sky was as blue and cloudless as ever, and late summer meant a vibrant colourfulness still hung around the palace grounds.  Whenever they passed a window that looked out over the courtyard, Sehun would watch with his persistent fascination as one of their two airships, the _Undaunted_ , prepared to make a landing.  Paracielle was free-floating in the sky, suspended by ancient magic and thus completely inaccessible from the surface. This meant all potable water and much of its food and other goods had to be shipped up from the surface multiple times a week onboard the airships.  While were greenhouses on the grounds, irrigated with a system of rain catchers, they could only grow so much.

The airdock operators and sailors hollered back and forth, throwing ropes down from the ship, and with practiced skill they lowered the hull to hover just a few inches from the ground.  Sehun watched with longing; he had never been allowed to accompany a trip to the surface.  It was too dangerous, his had father explained, and wasn’t much interesting beside.  No earthly beauty could measure to Paracielle, so why bother?  The few sailors he pestered for details would parrot essentially the same sentiment: that it was dangerous and boring.  When he was king, though, no one would stop him.  And then Sehun would go wherever he liked.

Once they found themselves standing in front of the doors of the King's chambers, flanked on either side by a palace guard.  Zitao stepped to the side of the hall, where he would wait until Sehun's business was concluded.  Sehun wiped his clammy hands on the sides of his coat before he stepped between the two guards and through the door.

The King's chambers made Sehun's look positively unadorned in comparison, with gold enamel plating the intricately floral-plastered high ceiling.  Bookcases along the walls held an assortment of books and baubles and treasures, and the far wall was mostly glass: towering windows looking off into the distant blue sky that stretched on forever.  In the center of the room were a few pieces of carefully arranged immaculately carved pieces of furniture, and in these sat Sehun’s father and grandfather. 

As he entered the room, his grandfather gestured for him to have a seat, and he did so.  He tried to catch the eye of his father, a handsome but serious-looking man nearing forty, but was unsuccessful.  His father’s gaze was fixed on something outside the window, as if he was deep in thought.  Resigning himself, he turned to his grandfather.  A year away from ninety, he was just shy of being describable of decrepit, yes despite his withering appearance Sehun knew he was still a man of fearful determination and vigour so long as whatever it was did not require physical expenditure.

"Grandson—"

"Sehun—"

His father and grandfather both started to speak at the same time, and realising their error both halted.  Sehun was still unsure why he was here in the first place; neither looked particularly angry, so it wasn't to punish him for the quality of his studies or some other shortcoming.  He wasn't sure whether he was pleased or not about that; he hated the lectures about acting more princely and improving his penmanship or whatever other fault they may find, but at least when he was being disciplined he didn't have to worry about an ulterior motive.  When he was treated with anything other than irritation or indifference it meant they were trying to get him to do something.  Sehun wouldn’t be caught with vinegar, but too much honey made him sick as well.

Eventually, Sehun's father ended up speaking first.  "Have you yet figured out why we've summoned you today Sehun?"  He had always been more diplomatic than his own father anyways.  Had Sehun VI not lived so long he would have likely made for an excellent king.  Or at least one to be reckoned with.

Sehun shook his head.  _I don't know why, but I don't imagine it's anything good._

Sehun’s father spoke with the delicacy of someone who knew they were wandering into a minefield.  "You are nineteen now, you'll be twenty soon enough.  Your grandfather ages more every day, and it will not be long before you are king."

Already, the direction this was headed was making itself apparent, and Sehun wanted no part of it.  "We spoke of this—"

"We spoke of this _months_ ago," his grandfather interrupted, ancient voice still voice strong and severe in a way that had been able to fill Sehun with anxiety since as long as he could remember.  "Each day I draw nearer and nearer to death and I want to see my heir wed first.  You said you wanted time to think: you've had more than enough.  Now it’s time to decide on a wife, marry, make more heirs."

It was as if his grandfather's commanding voice was a giant fist in Sehun's chest, squeezing tight around his insides until he could no longer breathe.  "I just need a bit more time...” He trailed off, panic rising inside him while he struggled to force it back down.  He wasn't going to win this time, he knew that already.  His victory the first time had been narrow enough as it was, and even then Sehun knew he had only been buying himself time.  He had just hoped he had a bit more yet.

"You're almost twenty and perfectly healthy, you should be begging me for a pretty girl to marry.  Perhaps you are simply shy, or maybe there is some deeper defect," he ventured, giving Sehun a look that pierced right to his heart, a look that saw far too much.  "Either way, it matters little so long as you do this.  It's too late to delay it now anyways, I have sent word to a few other houses that could provide a suitable match.  They will be arriving over the next few weeks and staying with us until you can make a decision."  The lump in Sehun's throat had grown too large to talk past, so he just stood there.  "And make no mistake, you will make a decision, or else I will.  You cannot put it off forever, you will have a reasonable amount of time to decide for yourself but after that I will intervene if necessary."  Sehun's father hadn't spoken since the beginning of the conversation, and his eyes had returned to staring thoughtfully at a cloud passing lazily by.

"I understand, Your Grace," Sehun replied robotically, impressing himself with his control over his voice this time.

“Good.  Be prepared to greet them when they start to arrive, and make a good first impression.  Dismissed."

Sehun had already turned on his heels by the time his grandfather said the word, and he let the door shut behind him like a period to the sentence.  He turned and gave a look to Zitao that thankfully was understood, and neither said anything as they walked away.  It wasn't until they rounded the corner and were out of sight of his grandfather's guards that Sehun let the tears go.

 

———

 

Sehun returned immediately to his quarters, determined to spend the rest of the day curled in his bed.  Zitao thankfully crawled under the covers with him and wrapped an arm around his waist without having to be asked, just like he had been doing since they were both children whenever Sehun had been upset.  When Sehun’s mother had died, they had laid like that for almost two full days until Sehun’s father finally appeared and sent Zitao back to his parents, leaving him to awkwardly try to get Sehun to eat something.  Zitao was the most familiar, comforting person Sehun had, and after a few minutes the familiar steadiness of his breathing was enough to make the panic subside, and Sehun’s mind was able to start looking for a way to get out of his situation. 

 _Was there a way?_   What could Sehun do?  So long as his grandfather remained on the throne there was no contradicting his orders, and the deadline meant he wasn’t going to be able to stall until he died.  Sehun tried to imagine marriage.  He didn’t abhor the idea of taking a wife; it just held no appeal for him.  He tried to picture Zitao as a girl —one of the pretty palace maids around his age— in bed beside him: it held no allure.  Something inside him just knew they wouldn’t smell right, or feel as right.  He shifted his hand up to clasp the arm wrapped around him and tried to imagine it less muscled and softer, with smaller hands on the end that were less scarred and less calloused.  He couldn’t; this was comfort.  On the occasions that Sehun woke up from a dream in a hot sweat, when he would seek release in the solitary dark of his bedroom, it was one of the squires or a servant, or —on a few especially shameful occasions— Zitao, that he thought about.  Ever since the incident with the kitchen boy, however, these instances came accompanied by such overwhelming anxiety that it was hardly worth it, a cold terror that washed away any pleasure he may have gleamed.  As for girls, well, there was curiosity for certain, but not one that translated to any particular interest.

But aside from leaving the palace, there was nothing he could do, and leaving would certainly be a risk.  He had never been to the surface; was forbidden by his father and grandfather from ever doing so.  The promise was that he would be able to do so once he was king, but for reasons unknown to Sehun any time he made the request to merely ride along on the _Undaunted_ or the _Majestic_ on a supply run, he was met with an unyielding _no_.  If he left, it would have to be for a long time.  And what if his grandfather sent men to find him and bring him home?  He had no experience with the surface, how was he to keep himself alive and unfindable?

Behind him, Zitao shifted and mumbled something sleepily.  Sehun could take him, he supposed.  Zitao was his only real friend, closer than a brother.  He was also capable in ways Sehun wasn’t.  _But would he go?_  His parents lived here, and he had only been to the surface on the rarest of occasions, for wilderness training exercises.  Sehun had pestered him mercilessly after his return from each one and revelled in the stories of the forests, dreaming of when he would be able to see them himself.

His wandering thoughts were interrupted when a gentle knock at the door made Sehun curl even tighter.  _Please let them go away_.  He felt Zitao’s arms withdraw from around his middle, and the bed rose as he got up.  Lying with his back turned to the door, he could only hear Zitao quietly open it and step out, closing it most of the way behind him.  After a few moments of indistinguishable murmurs, he heard the door open once more and Zitao’s familiar warmth rejoined him under the covers. 

“Who?” Sehun asked, his voice a miserable croak.

“Junmyeon.  He cancelled your lessons today, says he feels ill.”  Zitao’s fingers card through the hair behind his ears, knowing how much Sehun liked it.

Fresh tears pricked the corners of Sehun’s eyes at that.  Junmyeon gave him the day off because he was “ill.”  Never in Sehun’s life had Junmyeon taken a sick day; he would show up looking like a 3-day-old corpse with snot running down his chin and a hacking cough and still manage to give Sehun an eight-hour lecture on Thucydides.  This was Junmyeon, sweet Junmyeon, giving him a day off.  This was Junmyeon caring more than his own actual father ever had.  Sehun wondered if Junmyeon knew why betrothal terrified him, if he thought it was just nervousness or if he suspected the real reason.  Either way, Sehun felt more grateful to Junmyeon than he ever had before.  Tears flowing freely now, he let himself get lost in the warm breath on the back of his neck and the fingers in his hair and schemes to escape the palace.

 

———

 

When Sehun awoke, it seemed to be about mid-afternoon.  Zitao was still firmly pressed up against his back, and judging by his breathing he was still asleep.  His training meant he was easily awoken though, so when Sehun whispered his name he felt him awaken.  Sehun extricated himself from Zitao’s embrace and sat upright on the bed, cross-legged.  Zitao mirrored his position, waiting patiently for him to say what he was thinking. 

Sehun wasn’t sure how to say it tactfully, so he just said it.  “I want to leave Paracielle.”  And before Zitao could reply, he added: “And I want you to come with me.  If you want.”

Zitao was understandably taken aback.  “What do you mean, like run away?”

“Yeah.”  Sehun was shocked at how blasé he managed to seem with the idea.  This was Sehun; sheltered crown prince of Corbenice Sehun V asking him to run away from the only home they had ever known.

“And what?  Not come back?  Ever?”

 _I’ll come back when my grandfather’s dead_ , Sehun thought but didn’t say.  “We’d come back in a few years.”

Zitao was silent, but Sehun could see the gears turning in his head.  “And you’re sure you absolutely can’t marry one of those girls?”

There it was.  This was the closest they had ever come to saying it out loud.  “I… Zitao I don’t…” His jaw locked up.  _Don’t ask me something I can’t explain to myself yet._ Sehun didn’t know when he had become so emotional but skirting this issue made him feel scared and vulnerable like nothing else.  He loved and trusted Zitao, though, and Zitao loved him back.  He couldn’t hate Sehun.  _He could, a little bit,_ whispered the voice in his head that sounded like some horrifying combination of his own and his grandfathers’.

Zitao smiled comfortingly and laid his hand on a thigh that Sehun was horrified to realize was violently trembling.  “You don’t have to tell me why, Sehun.  If you’re not ready.  I just want to know if there’s no other option.”

Zitao would never understand how much that respect for privacy meant to him, but it still wasn’t enough to calm his leg.  “No.  There aren’t.  I can’t.  I _can’t_ , Zitao.”  The panic was drowning his insides again, and he hated it.  He hated how weak he was when it came to this.

“Sehun, it’s okay,” Zitao pulled him into a tight hug.  “I made an oath to protect you at all costs, and you’re my brother.”  Sehun hiccupped a big, stupid hiccup.  “We’ll leave.  Together.”  And with that Sehun buried his face in Zitao’s shoulder and let go of his tears, because he didn’t need to be strong, not right now. Because he had Zitao.

 

◊ ◊ ◊ ◊ ◊ ◊ ◊ ◊ ◊ ◊ ◊ ◊ ◊ ◊ ◊ ◊ ◊ ◊ ◊ ◊ ◊ ◊ ◊ ◊ ◊ ◊ ◊

 

It was almost a week before they were ready.  Zitao had been smuggling food supplies out of the kitchens to serve as rations, just a little bit at each time to avoid arousing too much suspicion.  They created mental lists of things to bring, and Sehun began to study some of his map books with an excitement he definitely hadn’t been able to muster for his studies before.

“Where should we go first?” Sehun asked, feeling giddy as he ran his hands over the best map he had found: _The World in 1766_.  For the first time, Sehun had noticed that nowhere in the palace could he find a single book from the 19 th century.  It made sense, he supposed; his grandfather was not one for leisure reading.  Still, it seemed odd that the most recent map he could find was seven years shy of being a century old.  He hoped that at least the general layout hadn’t changed too much.  “What about India?” 

Zitao looked up from the pilfered food he was trying to hide at the bottom of one of Sehun’s drawers.  “Isn’t India really far away?  Can’t we go start somewhere closer?  Besides, you’re the one with the boring geography lessons.”

“Yeah, but it’s always old stuff, ancient empires and the Middle Ages and things.  This is much more exciting, we could go to China, or America, or Africa!  We could go anywhere!”  Each colourful shape on the map was a million possibilities, possibilities that Sehun would soon get to explore for the first time. 

Zitao chuckled.  “Well, first we’ll have to see where the ship takes us.  If it’s just a supply run, it might just take us to a Corbenician city, Massalia maybe.  If we want to go somewhere more exciting we’ll need to find a way there.”

“Well, we we’ll have lots of time,” chirped Sehun, closing the book.  He’d been feeling good lately, better than he had in a long time.  Ever since leaving had become a real concept in Sehun’s mind, it was as if a heavy blanket that had been pulled off from over Sehun’s head, allowing him to pull in deep breaths of fresh air and truly feel happiness.  He was going to leave the palace, for the first time ever.  He was going to see the world with his best friend, and if that wasn’t enough, Zitao had been completely accepting of his reasons.  They hadn’t yet discussed it outright, but he was fairly certain that Zitao knew why Sehun couldn’t bring himself to be married.  But he wasn’t ready to put it into words yet, and thankfully Zitao seemed to be understanding of that.

Zitao had finished cramming the last bits of rations into the drawer.  “So with this, I think we’re good.  I have my things together, so whenever you’re ready to leave we can catch the next airship down.”

Sehun took a mental tally.  He wasn’t bringing much for personal affects, and he was only going to bring the bare minimum for clothing; the more plainly he dressed, the better he’d blend in.  As for money, well, he had never handled much currency, not needing it in his own home.  But he had begun to pocket valuables, little jewels and trinkets from around the palace that were small enough to take and wouldn’t be missed so he would something to bargain with on the surface.  After thinking about it a moment, it clicked that he actually already had everything he needed.  Hardly able to believe he was saying the words, he replied, “I think I’m ready too, actually.  When’s the next one?”  Glee was bubbling over inside him.

“Um,” Zitao says, looking off into space as he tried to recall the schedule he had committed to memory.  “Tomorrow morning, actually, just before dawn.”

“Can we make that one?”

Zitao grumbled with teasing exasperation.  “Now that I’ve finished stashing all that food?  Sure, I suppose I’ll just dig it all out and repack it and—“

“Zitaooooooo,” Sehun whined, practically vibrating with excitement.  He was too ecstatic right now to let Zitao play with him.  The other boy laughed at his impatience.

“Yes, I think we can.  Get your things together, I’ll meet you back here an hour before the ship departs.”

“Okay,” says Sehun, beaming.  “I’ll see you then.” As he watched Zitao leave the room, the same few words echoed in his head, repeating over and over again: _who knows what tomorrow will bring?_   They were the words his mother used to say to him every night before tucking him in.  Then they had been a promise of excitement and new opportunities, though in later years they had become more of a prayer that he would awake as someone else, someone who wasn’t crown prince of Corbenice.

But today, Sehun knew what tomorrow would bring, at least vaguely: it would bring adventure.  And something better.  Of that much, at least, he was sure.

 

◊ ◊ ◊ ◊ ◊ ◊ ◊ ◊ ◊ ◊ ◊ ◊ ◊ ◊ ◊ ◊ ◊ ◊ ◊ ◊ ◊ ◊ ◊ ◊ ◊ ◊ ◊

 

When Zitao returned to Sehun’s quarters in the early morning, he was ready.  What little he had had been neatly arranged within a bag he could throw over his shoulder, and he was dressed as plainly as his wardrobe allowed: a plain white shirt and black trousers.  When Zitao slipped through the door, he had two bags, each slung over a shoulder and both almost twice the size of Sehun’s.  His posture gave no indication that the weight bothered him.

“Are you set?” Zitao asked, voice barely above a whisper.  Sehun nodded.  He had been set since an hour after Zitao had left the night before, too excited to do anything other than pack and wait.  “Okay, let’s go.”  With lips curled into his trademark mischievous smirk, Zitao took Sehun by hand and pulled him towards the door.  Their adventure was beginning.

After Zitao had made sure the hall outside Sehun’s room was clear, they slipped through the door and darted down the passageway, keeping their footsteps as light as possible on the hard marble.  It was unlikely they’d encounter a guard on patrol; Paracielle had never had much emphasis on security given its inaccessibility, but still they made the effort to be stealthy. 

In the courtyard, the _Undaunted_ was still moored where it had set down a few days before.  None of the sailors were preparing for departure yet, which mean the lamps were still unlit and the ship was cloaked in darkness.  Both of their airships —the _Undaunted_ and the _Majestic_ — were nearing antiquity; Sehun wasn’t sure how old they were but they were older than his father, probably even 18th century.  The _Undaunted_ was a simple wooden hull, similar to the aquatic craft of its time, but instead of white sails billowing overhead it was connected to a singular, enormous canvas balloon filled with Ohydrogen, the lighter-than-air gas discovered by Sehun I’s court chemists back when they were first pioneering the idea of air travel.

Zitao darted over the grass, keeping low and waving for Sehun to follow.  Once they stood at the foot of the ship, Zitao spoke.  “I’m going to climb up.  First throw me the bags, and then I’ll help you up, okay?”  Sehun nodded, wordless, and watched with half-amazement, half-jealousy as Zitao performed a standing jump to grip the bottom of the ship’s rail and then hauled himself up and over, managing to make it look effortless all the while.  A moment later, Zitao’s head appeared over the top.  “Now throw me the bags, one at a time.”  Sehun did as was instructed, and after the third was up and over Zitao leaned as far over the edge as he could and held out his arm to grab.  Sehun jumped and clasped his wrist, and tried to scramble with his feet up the hull to make it easier for Zitao to pull him up.  Once he was able to get his own grip on the railing, he hoisted himself up the remainder and slung his feet over.  When both his boots were planted on the deck, he breathed easy.  He was going to need to be more athletic if he was going to be on the run. 

Zitao patted him on the shoulder.  “Not so bad, huh?”

Sehun grinned.  “Piece of cake.”  Zitao guffawed in laughter, before immediately restraining himself once he remembered they were in the middle of stealth operation.

“Okay, come on,” Zitao whispered, leading him belowdeck.  “They keep all the spare canvas for patching the balloon in the front of the hold, we can hide under that.”  Sure enough, packed at the far end of the inside of the ship was an enormous mound of piled fabric.  Zitao climbed over to the far side, and begin bunching up the fabric to create a hollow between hull and canvas.  Once it was big enough for the two of them and their bags, Zitao beckoned him over.  They both squatted in, and once they were both nestled semi-comfortably in the confined space, Zitao pulled a loose corner over top so they would be entirely concealed from anyone else. 

It was only a few moments before they heard the sailors beginning to board and prepare for liftoff.  Sehun and Zitao exchanged barely supressed smiles.  Heavy footsteps pounded overhead and soon filled the hold as the contingent of sailors thudded down the wooden stairs while someone, the captain most likely, spouted orders.

“—want sails up in twenty minutes.  Ballast is set?  Good.  Min, I want you to go over the balloon before we leave, I saw that damned owl up there again and I don’t want to find more puncture marks.  Jeon, I want you to checking the rigging.  Everyone else, it’s the usual routine.”  The footsteps split up, with some going back up the stairs and others going elsewhere belowdeck.  “Oh, and Min?” spoke the same voice.

One of the footsteps headed up the stairs paused.  “Yessir?”

“Take some material with you just in case you do find something.  You don’t want to have to climb up there twice.”  Beside him, Zitao’s breath hitched.

“Yessir, I will.  Thank you.”  The footsteps returned to the bottom of the stairs, and Sehun felt his heart pound as they came closer and closer.  They came to a stop just feet away, and Sehun looked over, wide-eyed at Zitao, who was looking similarly terrified.  There was the sound of a knife being removed from a sheath, and then the canvas covering their heads shifted as he took a hold of a different end.  Sehun fought to not breathe, willing his heartbeat to quit pounding away, because it surely must be audible at this point.  The material shifted again as Min stabbed his blade into it and began tearing through.  _Please do not take anymore, please_ , Sehun prayed silently, as his fingers tightly clasped Zitao’s hand.  He quickly realized fate had little interest in helping him however, because as Min tore the strip he had cut the rest of the way off, it pulled the canvas completely off from over their heads, leaving them to stare back at an equally-stunned sailor around their age.

_Dammit._

 

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Sehun slammed his bedroom door as hard as he could behind him, and only half-regretted it when the force knocked some things off of a nearby shelf.  _How dare he_.  After that stupid sailor —some idiot, only his third voyage— had alerted the entire ship that the prince and his Lionheart were trying to abscond on the _Undaunted_ , they were escorted inside and then held in a room under watch for twelve hours until his grandfather saw fit to come and deal with them.  Sehun had never seen him angrier.  He had shouted with a volume and rage he wouldn’t have thought a man of almost 90 could muster, telling Sehun he was a coward for running and reminding him of the dangers of the surface, and the irresponsibility.  Every sentence was another strip torn off Sehun, but after the initial shock of being caught nothing else mattered anyways.  He had had his chance, and he wouldn’t get another one.  He had managed to take the abuse without breaking, staring off into the distance with eyes set, trying not to listen or tear up.  Thankfully when the issue of his possible deviancies were not being discussed he had a stronger spine.  But when his grandfather turned his attention to Zitao, things had fallen apart.

Zitao was being held in a cell until King Sehun could decide on a fitting punishment for what he called “abduction and treason”, and it was all Sehun fault.  Stupid Sehun and his need to pull Zitao into it.  And of course his grandfather hadn’t listened when he told him that; Sehun wasn’t even being punished.  The unfairness of it made him want to vomit.

It took all of five minutes for Sehun to realise his room was suffocating.  He had to go, he couldn’t be there anymore.  He slammed the door on his way out again just for consistency, and stormed back down the hallway.  It was dusk by then, with low light as the sun sank over the horizon, and it wasn't until Sehun burst through a door on the side of the palace and had his lungs flooded with the cool evening air that he felt like he could breathe easy.

Between Sehun and the edge of the island was just around a hundred feet of flat lawn.  A sea of green, swaying grass, and a purple sky beyond that.  Sehun decided to walk closer.  It wasn’t something he did often; if someone caught him, it would most certainly mean another scolding, but it would take several hundred lectures before he was being punished even half as much as Zitao was.

The edge cut off sharply, but below it was still just light enough he could make out the gently rocking waters below, dark now but famed for their azure colour during daylight.  Sehun inched forward until his toes hung over the ledge.  Growing up on Paracielle meant that height had never bothered him much.  A gentle wind brushed over his face, and Sehun realised if it was going the opposite direction it would be just enough push him over.  _I’d get to leave the island,_ he thought, smirking humourlessly at the darkness of his thoughts.  It wasn’t a serious thought anyways; the world wasn't much worth seeing as a puddle.

Sehun stepped back, and started to idly amble the circumference of the island.  When he was outside, he had never spent as much time on the north side of the grounds.  It was the south side where the airships landed and departed from, and this captivated his attention far more.  The north was more natural: meadows, a pond, and even a small grove of trees.  It was the grove of trees he was headed towards when Sehun noticed something funny: a figure.

Just beyond the treeline, tucked into the cluster, was a boy.  He looked young but not overly so, Sehun's age maybe.  He was wearing dark clothes, but a red sash tied around his waist made him just visible enough to stand out at their distance.  Sehun realized with some nervousness that the boy was staring in his direction.

He was certain he had never seen him around the palace before, but the strange boy also didn't seem to mean him any harm.  When he made no move to come closer or run away, Sehun hesitantly raised his arm in greeting.

The boy mirrored him.  Sehun began to wave; the boy waved back.  He couldn't be certain, but at this distance it looked like he was smiling.  Sehun set out at a brisk pace in his direction.

As he neared, the boy turned on his heels and walked off in the opposite direction, deeper into the trees.  Sehun wasn't about to let him get away, so he too took off in a run.  Sehun had gotten to the center of the grove when he realised he had completely lost sight of the boy.  Where had he gone?  Sehun whirled around to head back to retrace his steps, but found himself staring face to face with an entirely different man than the one he had been chasing.

"Sorry ‘bout this," the stranger said, clamping a damp cloth over Sehun's face, and soon he was falling away; everything was falling away until all Sehun could see was the boy, waving to him from the grove.  And then he just saw black.


	2. A Rude Awakening

When Sehun awoke, it was to the sensation of having peas slung at his face.

There was a roar of laughter, and a voice that shouted at someone named Baekhyun.  Sehun moved to wipe at his face before realising his hands were tied to the arms of his chair.  Once he had blinked through the remaining bleariness, he was able to take in his surroundings: he was on a ship, of that much he was fairly certain.  The shape of the room and the windows on the far wall resembled all the paintings he had seen of the sterns of aquatic ships.  The windows running along the far wall and those to his left and right looked out only to blue-blackness, late-evening sky, but the lamps within the cabin made it impossible to see well enough to tell if there was water as well.  The absence of rocking, he surmised, likely meant they were in the air, though that could also just mean calm seas.  Judging just from the spaciousness of the room though, if he was in an airship it would have to be far larger than either of Paracielle's.  Sehun was in the middle, seated around a large table of people with a delicious-looking meal laid out on it.

"Your Grace, I’m so sorry,” said the figure seated opposite Sehun.  He was dressed garishly, if a little shabby, but the duster he wore overtop looked anything but cheap.  From his head fell tousled dark hair that just reached the nape of his neck, and despite looking to be about ten years older than Sehun, his features looked far too boyish for the deepness of his voice.  The others, eight of them —Sehun counted— chuckled again.  “After all, you’re the only reason that Minseok here,” he gestured across the table at an especially pretty young man with his cheeks stuffed, seated to Sehun’s right, “Let us actually have a nice meal for once.  Usually he’s pretty stingy with the rations.”  Minseok made a rude gesture back at him.

“Minseok’s appalling table manners just reminded me of my own failings.  Let me introduce everyone.  That, as I mentioned, is Minseok.”  By now, Minseok had swallowed whatever he had been eating, and greeted Sehun with a twinkle in his eye and a kind demeanor that ignored the fact that Sehun was currently bound.  “Beside him, that’s Jongdae.” A man with an angular face nodded at him.  “The colossus beside him is Yifan,” he resumed, earning a scowl from the admittedly very tall Yifan.  “This is where Jongin sits, he’ll be here in a second, he’s just finishing up on the rigging.  You’ll like him, he’s your age.  I’m Chanyeol— Captain Chanyeol, pleased to make your acquaintance.”  Sehun nodded dumbly, already haven forgotten half the names he had just been told.  “The gentleman staring at you is Kyungsoo, my First Mate.”

Kyungsoo punched him in the shoulder.  “I wasn’t staring, I was just looking.”

“In your case they’re one and the same,” Chanyeol replied, carrying on quickly to avoid escalation.  “Baekhyun is the dandy stealing Kyungsoo’s meat,” he said, and sure enough there was a short, impeccably-dressed man stabbing his fork into the piece of chicken on Kyungsoo’s plate.

“Oi!” Baekhyun shouted back after his cover was blown.  Kyungsoo hit him as well.

“Then we have our ship doctor Yixing, who may keep quite busy this evening if Kyungsoo’s present rampage continues.”  Yixing was a dazed-looking but well-dressed man who was smiling amicably in Sehun’s direction.  That left just the person on Sehun’s left, who was staring at him with an almost wide-eyed intensity that almost made Kyungsoo’s seem casual.  “And yes, last but far from least, we have Luhan.  He’s… he’s a little more peculiar but don’t worry, he’s ordinarily quite sweet-tempered.”  Luhan was the oddest-dressed of them all, wearing heavy dark-grey robes fastened over his right shoulder by a silver brooch.  Six circles, linked into two chains, surrounding two dots orbiting another circle.  Everyone else had looked Chanyeol’s age, but this one looked as though he might be even younger than Sehun.

Finally, Luhan spoke, though his fascinated gaze remained fixed on Sehun’s face.  “I’m going to read your fortune.”

“Oh,” said Sehun.  “Okay.”  Luhan drew a deck of cards out of his robes.

“He’s just going to give you the Drowned Phoenician Sailor,” said the one with the cheekbones— Jongdae.  “It’s what he gave all of us.”  Luhan didn’t look the slightest bit put out, instead calmly shuffling the cards.  “We think it’s supposed to freak us out or something, cause we’re all sailors but I mean, we aren’t sailing in water, so I’m not really sure what it’s supposed to mean.”

Luhan finished shuffling the cards.  “Pick three.”  Jongdae’s jaw dropped.

“You never let us pick!  Let alone three!”

Sehun wasn’t exactly able to pick three right then either.  “Um,” he murmured, pulling at the bindings holding his arms to the chair.

“Right right right,” Luhan muttered, as if he had somehow forgotten Sehun was tied down.  “Chanyeol?” he asked, looking to the captain for approval.

“Sure,” said Chanyeol between bites.  “It was just to ensure his cooperation when he awoke.  I’m sure there’s no need for them anymore.”  Luhan and Minseok each untied an arm, freeing him to select his three cards from the deck Luhan was holding out.  He did so, laying each one face up on the table.

Luhan peered at each one.  “The Man with Three Staves.  The Wheel of Fortune.  And the Hanged Man.”  He returned his piercing gaze to Sehun’s face.  “You have in interesting future, Oh Sehun.”

“Thank… you?”  This situation was becoming exceedingly bizarre.  “What does it mean?”

As if a spell was broken, Luhan’s eyes flickered away and his gaze turned back down to his food.  “It doesn’t mean anything.  But what it could mean… is interesting.”

“Am I going to be hanged?” Sehun asked.  Luhan just shrugged.

“Don’t let him bother you too much, he’s a bit of a troublemaker,” Chanyeol spoke once again.  “Please, eat before everyone else eats it all.”  Sehun did actually feel alarmingly hungry.  Just then, he remembered the earlier events of the day.  He hadn’t been able to eat while locked away waiting for his grandfather, and after Zitao had been taken away he had been too angry.  Zitao… I wonder how he is right now.  Okay, I hope.  Guilt and his stomach wrestled for control, but his stomach won out in the end, just barely, and he reached for the remains of the roast chicken in the center of the table.

As he loaded the plate that had been set before him with as much as it could hold, he asked: “Pardon me, but who are you all?  Why am I here?”  The last thing he remembered was looking over the edge of Paracielle.  Had he fallen?  It seemed unlikely he had, without dying at least.  So how had he come to be on this strange ship?

“Please, eat first,” was Chanyeol’s only response.  “We’ll have plenty of time after dinner to discuss.”  Unsatisfied, Sehun let his hunger win over his curiosity as well.  He ate, ate with the ferocity of a starved animal, stuffing mashed potatoes in his mouth with a messy vigour that would have had Junmyeon in tears.

Eating so quickly, he had almost finished his plate when a door opened and shut behind him.  “Ah, there he is.  Sehun, this is Jongin, who I spoke of earlier.”  The new arrival walked around the table and took his seat between Yifan and Chanyeol, for the first time giving Sehun a clear look at his face. 

He dropped his fork under the table.  “You…”  Sehun remembered him.  He remembered it all now, he hadn’t fallen.  He had seen someone in the grove— Jongin.  He had seen Jongin in the grove.  And it had been Yixing that sedated him; the memory hit Sehun so hard it winded him.

Jongin grinned bashfully.  “Yeah, sorry about that.”

Chanyeol, apparently finished with dinner, pushed his plate forward.  “Yes, okay.  So I suppose it’s time to address…” He waved his hands in Sehun’s general direction.  “This.”  Sehun was ready.  Everyone else around the table had gone silent, and either had their eyes fixed on Chanyeol or their empty plates.  The one exception was Luhan, who had returned to staring into Sehun’s soul.  “There isn’t really an easy way to explain everything.  Basically you’re a hostage now.” 

Someone —Baekhyun— coughed.  “What?” Sehun asked, stunned.  Chanyeol had said that far too cavalierly to have been serious.

“Uh yeah, basically that’s it.  I’m sorry?”  He awkwardly scratched at the back of his head, as if he was apologizing for some trivial, much smaller crime than kidnapping the heir apparent. 

“No.  Take me home.”  Chanyeol looked genuinely apologetic.  The entire crew looked ashamed; it made it all the more infuriating.

“We made a deal with the Prucians.  The throne owes them a lot of money; we’ve been assured you won’t be harmed.  They just need a way to keep the King from defaulting again.  You just get to go and be a political prisoner for a bit— Pruce is beautiful.  My father was from there.” 

This was a lie.  It had to be; Corbenice was one of the richest kingdoms in the world, and Paracielle was its crown jewel.  This was a kidnapping, plain and simple.    “Let me go.  Take me home and I won’t have any of you punished.  Take me home and my grandfather will pay you double what you’ve been offered.”

Chanyeol made a face.  “I’d like to.  I really would.  I wish we didn’t have to take you in the first place.  But apparently your grandfather doesn’t just owe money to the Prucians, but the Brits and Russians as well.  The Prucians offered us the _Anteron_ ,” he gestured around the room, “plus a bunch of silver upon delivery; judging by the state of Paracielle’s fleet I doubt he could even afford the ship, let alone the rest.”

That was nonsense.  Even at two ships, the Paraciellian fleet was unrivalled.  Both ships were without peer… or at least he had always been told.  The one they were in presently was at the very least, much larger.  Well even if they were right, it didn’t matter.  “Even if my grandfather is indebted, Corbenice has money.  They’d pay for their crown prince.”

For the first time, Jongin looked up from his plate at Sehun.  He was frowning, but not out of anger; it was confusion splayed across his face.  Chanyeol sported a similar expression.  “You… you really don’t know what it’s like down there, do you?”

That last bit of condescension was all it took to set him off.  Sehun was angry.  Angry at his grandfather for having all of his expectations, for making him so terrified that he actually wanted to run away.  Angry at his father for just going along with it all.  Angry at them both for imprisoning Zitao, angry at these lunatics for kidnapping him and lying to him, treating him like he was stupid.  He was teetering between throwing something and just breaking down in tears, and for once in his life, he went with the former.

To his credit, Chanyeol looked genuinely shocked when the plate just narrowly missed his head.  “What was that for?!”

Sehun hadn’t even noticed he had stood up.  “That’s for being a bunch of… of fucking pirates!”  He was reaching for something else, anything, when strong arms seized him from the back.  Yifan and Minseok had jumped up to restrain him.

Chanyeol looked just as hurt as if the plate had actually hit him.  “Smugglers.  We’re just smugglers,” he whined

“Human smugglers,” Sehun spat, having given up fighting the hold the two had on him.  “That’s as bad.”

Chanyeol was avoiding his eyes as much as the rest now.  “I’m sorry.  I had hoped otherwise but if you are going to act this way we will have to keep you in a cell.”  He looked miserable, pitiful; and despite his position, Sehun felt powerful.  “Take him to the brig.”  Sehun let them take him away.  He wasn’t strong enough to fight them anyways, and had made his point.  But as they turned to leave, he was able to make eye contact with Jongin.  The other boy’s expression was indecipherable, but Sehun’s scowl was clear as day.  Pirate, he mouthed one last time before leaving.  Jongin’s face fell, and that was enough.

 

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The next morning —Sehun thought it was morning, there are no portholes in the brig with which he could be sure— Jongin brought him breakfast.  It was just a bread heel and a block of cheese, but Sehun swallowed both practically whole.  "How did you sleep?"  Jongin asked.  Sehun ignored him, and not just because the sudden inhalation of food left him feeling a little uncomfortable.  In all honesty, ignoring the bars that constituted on wall of his cell and the cramped size, his current quarters weren't as bad as they likely could have been.  There was a bed of hay and a pile of blankets, and while it was a far cry from his bed back home it had made little difference when he finally allowed himself to sleep last night, exhausted from the day's events.

Sehun wasn't about to tell his captors that, so instead he said, "Awful."  Jongin laughed, as if he thought Sehun was being funny.

Jongin stared at Sehun for a few beats more, as if waiting for him to speak again.  If he thought Sehun was going to play amusement for a pirate, however, he was sorely mistaken, so Sehun kept mute.  After a few moments more of awkward silence, Jongin took the initiative.

"What's Paracielle like?"

Sehun snorted.  "You should know, you got to see it well enough last night."

Jongin winced.  "I am sorry.  But Chanyeol's right, the Prucians won't hurt you.  They'll set you up in a mountain chateau for a few months, and sure you'll be guarded but you'll have everything you need.  Do you know how many people would kill for a life like that?"  Sehun didn't have anything to respond with, so he took the opportunity to look at Jongin. 

On Paracielle, he had only seen him from a distance, and last night he had been too shocked to really take him in.  Now, at this proximity, he realized how truly beautiful he was.  His billowy white shirt contrasted with flawless, tanned skin, and even through the shirt he could see Jongin was lean but not lanky in the way Sehun was.  He was more willowy, moving with a languid precision that exuded an easy grace and a comfortableness in his body.  Dark, windswept hair turned brown by the sun tufted out from under the red bandana he had tied over his head, over which sat a pair of dark round goggles.  His eyes, dark and perfectly shaped, somehow managed to be both sleepy and full of life.

“We didn’t have a choice, you know.”  Jongin had confused Sehun’s appraisal with judgement.  Which, he admitted, had been an element, though it wasn’t why he was staring.    “We were trying to make our way out of Prucian Africa when they ambushed us, burned our airship, and placed us all under arrest.  We spent a few months as prisoners, and we didn’t have it nearly as cushy as you will.  The only way we secured our freedom was promising to do a job for them; retrieve you.”  _Prucian Africa isn’t even a real place_.  Jongin was trying to justify his actions, though he didn’t have the same desperation for Sehun’s understanding as Chanyeol had had.  Neither of them was going to get it; they had kidnapped him, and whatever the reasoning he would not forgive them.

“That doesn’t make sense though.  Why would they entrust a job to smugglers that they caught?  You can’t be that good if you got caught.”  Sehun hadn’t meant it to be antagonistic, but he got a small thrill watching Jongin’s face sour.  It didn’t last long, though, because wasn’t put out for very long.

“They had actually been hunting us for years.  We were good enough to evade them every other time we had business there.”  Jongin squatted to sit cross-legged on the floor in front of Sehun’s cell, and motioned for him to do the same.  Sehun remained standing, and Jongin just shrugged.  “So are you going to tell me about Paracielle?”

“No.” 

Jongin laughed at him again.  It would be pretty if it wasn’t so infuriating; Jongin laughed freely, like he wasn’t afraid of being judged.  “What if I get you more breakfast?”

It took Sehun all of five seconds to mull it over.  "Okay."

When Jongin came back, it was with the exact same food and portions as he had brought before, but Sehun was not complaining.  Deciding to actual enjoy his food this time, he only allowed himself to tear off a tiny piece of bread every few minutes and have a tiny bite of the cheese.  Meanwhile he told Jongin about Paracielle; first about the beauty of the palace, and what it was like living there.  But as he spoke and Jongin listened, asking him more questions and listening with unending patience, Sehun started telling him more than he probably should have. It just became easy; he had never had someone express interest in him that didn’t already know everything about his life.  He told Jongin about his lessons with Junmyeon, about Zitao and their misadventures; he told Jongin about the time they had realized they could race down the palace steps laying belly-down on rugs, and how this fun continued until the time Sehun had hit a distracted Junmyeon.

It was just easy, talking to Jongin.  He told stories that had them both in tears from laughter, and once he had calmed down enough, Jongin asked Sehun: "What about your family?  You haven't mentioned them yet."

Sehun stilled for a moment.  "They just weren't a part of my life.  My mother passed when I was very young, and my father never has time with me.  I think, in his mind, he tries to be a good father."

"And your grandfather?  The King?  What is he like?"  He asked with a curiosity that Sehun felt was only befitting someone curious about being the grandson of a King, but still it

"He's..."  Sehun had never really been asked how he felt before.  Junmyeon and Zitao both knew how upset he could get when it came to his grandfather, but he had never been able to speak of it, not in public.  Sehun took a moment, and decided to make the leap.  "He's horrible."

Jongin was taken aback.  "What does he do?"

The tremble in his thigh was back, and Sehun hoped Jongin wouldn't notice.  "It wasn't as bad when I was younger.  Then he just ignored me for the most part, and occasionally had me report to him on what I had been learning in my lessons to ensure Junmyeon was teaching me right.  He'd give me a long speech on ruling and the responsibility of being King of Corbenice, but then he'd send me on my way."  The trembling was getting worse.  _How much should he say?_   "It got worse as I got older.  He got stricter, meaner.  When I was twelve, I hadn't yet been able to grasp a maths concept because I had only just started learning it a few days before.  He ordered that Junmyeon and I be held in a room where we wouldn't be allowed to eat or sleep until I had grasped the concept to his satisfaction.  It was little things like that.” 

It was getting harder to breathe, but he did it anyways and decided to press on.  “When I was fifteen he... I was caught with the kitchenboy and... and he had him whipped.  _Couldn't have them thinking they're above their stations_ , he had said."  Jongin looked shocked, eyes round; Sehun was grateful he didn't ask what he and the kitchenboy had been doing.  "It got worse after that.  The way he looks at me... It's like he can see right through me, like he can see every lie I tell him.  He's disappointed, I can tell.  If he had another option for heir he would forget about me in a second, but my father hasn't had it in him to rule since my mother died, and even if he remarried and had another child my grandfather won't live long enough for it to be old enough to take the throne."  Sehun stared firmly at the ground, refusing to see whether Jongin would wear the same disgusted, disapproving look.  He had said more than he had meant to, but he didn’t care anymore.  He didn’t matter to any of them anyways, just a job.

"Jongin!" A voice shouted from the other side of the door, cutting through the silence that had settled. 

"Yeah?" he responded, and Sehun looked up just in time to see the waves of sympathy Jongin’s eyes were radiating towards him.

"Captain wants you abovedeck, c'mon."

Jongin cast another look at Sehun.  "I'll be back later, okay?  There's more I think we should talk about."  Sehun didn't know what more there was, but he also didn't feel like arguing, so instead he said nothing.  "Okay, see you soon!" And with one final sad, encouraging smile, he was gone and Sehun was alone once more.

 

———

 

"I'm back," Jongin said as he barged into the brig several hours later, as if the slamming of the door behind him hadn't already alerted Sehun to that.  "Here's dinner," he added, sliding a plate of whatever Minseok had cooked that night through the gap below the cell door and the floor.  Sehun dug in hungrily, despite the ambiguous edibility of the dish's contents. 

Meanwhile, Jongin produced a peach from somewhere and took a bite.  By the time Sehun finished his dinner, the fruit held its own appeal.  "I stole it from Minseok, he’d kill me if he found out," Jongin laughed through a mouthful, juice still glistening on his lip.  He chewed and swallowed, then posed a new question for Sehun.  "I'm Corbenician too, did you know that?"  Sehun hadn't.  "I can tell by the weird face you're making that you didn't know that.  Well, I am.  My mother's grandfather was actually a mid-level noble."  _So what was he doing as a smuggler?_  

"How much do you really know about the history of Corbenice, Sehun?  The recent history.”

Was Jongin really going to lecture him on something he had been learning since he was five?  “What do you mean?”

Jongin looked uncomfortable.  “I’m going to tell you the history of Corbenice as we learn it on the surface.  And I think some of it might be different to you, but I need you to not interrupt me until I finish.”

Well, it wasn’t as if Sehun was going anywhere.  “Okay.  Sure, tell me.”

“So, it starts with Sehun I building his sky palace of Paracielle way back in the early seventeenth century.  Throughout his reign he had been obsessed with flight, and had engineers and scientists come from all around the world.  He’d pay for their living expenses and experiments, so long as they yielded results.  Through the efforts of these great minds, the world was introduced to Ohydrogen and aircraft that was primitive at the time, but would also lay the ground for current levels of technology.”

“Yes I know, everyone knows that,” Sehun muttered irritably.  Was he going to have to sit through a history lesson from a pirate?

“Okay, but not everything will be the same as they story you’re familiar with, so bear with me.  So by the mid-point of his reign, Sehun had been growing more erratic in his ruling.  He spent much of his time with his head literally in the clouds, devoting more time to testing his scientists’ new technologies rather than ruling.  Over time, he had also grown deeply untrusting of the Corbenician nobility, never feeling safe while he was on solid land.  Driven by what was very possibly madness, he commissioned the construction of Paracielle.”

Sehun went to interrupt, but was met with the sight of Jongin holding up a single finger, silencing him, and the insult alone was enough to strike him dumb.

“To do so, he collected the greatest group of sorcerers the world had ever seen.  They came from the far and near east, from Africa, from the new world, from nations across Europe.  I’m sure our stories of the raising of Paracielle aren’t too different from what you learned, they enchanted an island of earth to float in the air for eternity, and then construction of the palace began.  What you may not have learned is that all these sorcerers returned to their homes, and within ten years all had died.  Every one that had participated in the suspension.  People used to think it was magical exhaustion but many now think they may have been somehow poisoned so the feat couldn’t be recreated.”

“It’s completed two Kings and over forty years later by Sehun II, who nearly ruins his country doing it, before ascending to live in his new palace.  The rulers of Corbenice would rule from on high for the next century, and admittedly some rulers were better than others, but each grew more out of touch than the last.  It was Sehun III, seventy years ago, that decided to continually raise taxes to fund his new Royal Air Navy, not caring that his people had just suffered through two consecutive years of famine.”

Anger was bubbling in Sehun now; he could not even leave, he just had to sit in this cell and be condescended to, lied to, about his history.  But he said nothing— what else could he do?

“The people had had enough; they rose up and put the dockyards where his fourteen new top-of-the-line ships were being built to the torch.  Two escaped to Paracielle, the rest where too unfinished and burned.  The King was able to sit up in his palace and use these two ships to resupply from neighbouring countries that didn’t hate him, but on the surface the people had turned on the lower nobility as well.  Depending on how hated the particular families were, some were simply deposed while others were torn apart by screaming crowds.  And if you survived that, then you had to face the next ten years of instability while different rulers and governments built up and crumbled one after the other.  Meanwhile, Sehun III lived in hiding until 1799 when he died and your grandfather took over.“

Sehun couldn’t believe his ears.  This was ridiculous.  This went against everything he had ever learned.  “It doesn’t make any sense.”

Jongin was looking more sympathetic now that he had said what he wanted to.  “I know this is hard to hear.  It can’t be what you were taught there; I realised something was up when you said Corbenicians would buy their prince back.  I’m sorry, but they wouldn’t.  The surface Corbenicians hate the royalty, the only reason they still have Avalone is because it’s basically exile.  That’s how your grandfather came to be in such debt; he had to borrow from other countries just to keep his palace running.”  He cut another slice from his peach and ate it.

Sehun’s head was still spinning.  It was impossible.  There were so many contradictions with what Sehun already knew, but he had to admit it also filled in some of the holes he had always wondered about.  The missing books, and the lack of visitors from the surface, and the age of everything in the palace.  It all made so much sense, but it couldn’t.  It just couldn’t.  “How do you know all this?  What’s your source of information?”

Jongin replied with all the patience of someone who had expected an uphill battle.  “My great-grandfather was nobility, like I said.  Our family lost everything, and thankfully he was beloved enough among his people that his entire household wasn’t killed, although he was sent into exile.  I never met him, he died before I was born but my grandfather was old enough to remember.”

“So all this came from your grandfather?  He could just have made it up—“

“Sehun,” Jongin cut him off with a warning tone.  “My grandfather did not fabricate this entire story.  I grew up outside Corbenice, that does not mean I haven’t visited since.  This is the story everyone grows up learning.”

Sehun breathed deep and rubbed at his eyes, half-hoping he could remove them and blink his eyes to find himself back in his bed on Paracielle, with the sun just beginning to peek between the curtains.  No such luck.  “I— you can’t just expect me to take this all in like this.”

Jongin thoughtfully cut another slice of his peach, and if it weren’t for the bars separating them Sehun would have slapped it out of his hands.  “Chanyeol’s been talking about stopping at Massalia before we leave Corbenice.  He still feels awful about locking you up; he likes to play the charismatic, loquacious pirate captain like he reads about in his stupid stories but he’s actually just a big soft-hearted idiot.  If you promise not to try to run, I might be able to talk him into letting you go aground with me for a bit, and I can prove it.”

Despite the cold bucket of water that had been dropped on his head, Sehun felt something flip in his stomach at the possibility of seeing Massalia.  The second largest city in Corbenice after the capital Lutetia, it had been the center of naval shipping since… since forever.  The thought of seeing the city thrilled Sehun beyond all else.  “Yes, yes, I promise not to run, I want to see the city.” 

Jongin beamed at him, and somehow after everything else it still managed to be welcoming.  “I’ll speak to him, I’m sure I can win him over.  Here,” he said, cutting another piece off of the damned peach, but this time he took the remaining half and passed it to Sehun through the bars.  “Enjoy, we’ll be setting down tomorrow, be ready.”

Jongin left and Sehun sat back down on the pile that was his bed.  He looked at the fruit for a moment, thinking.  Before even setting foot on the surface, he was already starting to believe everything Jongin had told him.  It all made too much sense, and it wasn’t as if his grandfather hadn’t demonstrated he was capable of such a deception.  It was terrifying, to suddenly realize that what little he knew about the world was a lie, but somehow exciting at the same time.  Already, the thought of seeing Massalia was replacing the fear in his mind with wonderment.  He took a bite of the peach, and then another, and as he revelled in the burst of flavour, he thought about all the paintings he had seen of Massalia and wondered if it would still look the same.   He had to admit, the peach really was the sweetest he had ever tasted.


	3. A Close Call

The excitement of the evening before, combined with the fact that he had done nothing all that day, meant that Sehun had a lot of difficulty getting more than just a couple of hours sleep.  However, by the time he started hearing the familiar shouts of a crew trying to bring a ship down through his door, he felt just as awake and ready as he would with ten hours good sleep.

It felt like hours, but once the voices had settled and the ship was moored, Jongin entered his cabin with Chanyeol behind him.  Sehun was practically trembling with excitement; just on the other side of this hull was an entire bustling city that he would soon experience.

"Good morning Sehun," Chanyeol greeted him, looking just as awkwardly guilty as he had when he had announced Sehun must be held in a cell.  "I was speaking to Jongin, and he made a good case for you."  To his side, Jongin was staring firmly at his feet.  "I think we can allow you a day in the city, especially it's your first.  But remember, no one can know who you are.  If someone finds out you're Sehun V, King of Paracielle, it's not good for either of us.  The royalty isn't very popular around here."  In an odd thought, Sehun realized it hadn’t even once occurred to him to even try escaping.  The excitement of Massalia consumed every corner of his mind.  "Jongin will keep an eye on you, so stay with him.  If you make an attempt to slip off, I'm sorry Sehun but we'll have to lock you right back up. Be cooperative, and we'll let you move about the ship as we travel.  Do you understand?"

Sehun nodded emphatically; he was already tired of talking, he was ready to see.

"Okay. Jongin, go ahead."  Chanyeol left the room, and Jongin stepped forward with a set of keys and a grin almost as big as Sehun's.

"You're excited, are you?" He asked as he sorted through the keys to find the right one.

Sehun laughed.  "Am I really so obvious?"  Jongin lips turned upward despite the concentrated gaze still affixed on the keys.    "Jongin?"  The other boy grunted.  "Why does it matter so much to you that you convince me of this other history of Corbenice?

Jongin tried a key, and sighed when it didn't turn, muttering something about Baekhyun and a lack of organization.  "You're crown prince of Corbenice.  Just because you're taking a break from that doesn't mean you don't have responsibilities.  Even if you won't have any real power once you are King, you'll still be an important figure.  It's important to me that you realize the mistakes of your predecessors.  Things down here are still a mess, and maybe if they get an alright King, they'll be alright too.”  Jongin tried another key, and was rewarded with the lock clicking open.  He stood back to let the door swing open.  “You don't seem like you're an awful person yet." 

He was technically still a captive, but right then Sehun was feeling freer than he ever had.  "Thank you.  You're not that awful of a person either," Sehun responded with his cheekiest smile.  Jongin laughed, and Sehun was briefly struck by the realisation that without the bars between them, he was actually standing quite close.  "Uh, well, can we go?"

"Yes, of course.  After you."

Once Sehun left the brig, he realized how big the ship —the _Anteron_ , he remembered Chanyeol calling it— truly was.  The night of his capture, he had been too shocked and too tired to take it in, but as he followed Jongin through the bowels of the ship and up the stairs to the deck, he realised how big it was.  Three levels below deck, each hugely spacious.  It was near twice as big as the _Majestic_ and _Undaunted_ put together, further concreting the idea that Paracielle was seventy years out of touch.

Once they stepped out onto the shaded deck, Sehun's breath disappeared.  They had landed in an enormous open square in the middle city, with a loose handful of other airships moored around them.  The buildings surrounding it looked incredibly plain to Sehun, compared to Paracielle, but there were so _many_.  There were hundreds, thousands, and the entire place was imbued with a sense of life that made his home feel like a mortuary.  Venders were shouting back and forth while travellers wandered amongst the ships.  Unfamiliar sounds and smells assaulted Sehun and he needed to find the source of all of them.

It was also the first time he could also actually see the full size of the ship.  Two elongated white balloons that dwarfed those of the _Undaunted_ or the _Majestic_ hung about four stories overhead, connected to each other and to the ship by rope netting.  The hull was similarly enormous with a shaping similar to its marine counterparts.

"Alright everyone," Chanyeol hollered, addressing the crew now fully assembled on the deck.  "As discussed, Minseok will be resupplying the kitchen, Baekhyun is doing his own thing, and Kyungsoo is taking Yifan, Jongdae, Jongin and I suppose Sehun with him.  Yixing and me will watch the ship but don't take too long, I don't want to linger.  You have two hours."  Everyone said something in the affirmative and dispersed.  Sehun tailed along after Kyungsoo with the other members of his assigned group as they stepped down the wooden staircase that had been rolled up to the side of the ship.

"Welcome to the surface Sehun," Jongin grinned over at him as they walked inbetween the other landed ships, with some as small as skiffs and even one or two others as near as large as the _Anteron_ , and Sehun noticed how much more beautiful Jongin was in the Mediterranean sunshine.  His white shirt reflected a blinding amount of the light, but it was his skin that looked the most luminous.  "What do you think?"

"It's fantastic."  It really was: with every step he took the risk of tripping because his eyes were fixated on the bustling market around the airdock rather than on the buckets and ropes and other things strewn over the cobblestones below his feet.  "Where are we going?"

"The gunsmith.  Chanyeol wants to get a new order of rifles, he's been edgy since the Prucians caught us.  The world's getting smaller all the time and at some point, just running won't be enough."

"You're willing to kill for cargo?" Sehun had been surprised at Jongin's civility thus far, but that was a line he didn't think he could cross.

"Our cargo?  Yes, I am," Jongin said, firmly.  "Some things are worth it." 

Sehun was still confused as to what he was talking about.  They had reached the edge of the giant open square and squeezed down a narrow street lined by shops and vendors, and groups of people bustling between.  Sehun had never seen so many people before.

Behind Sehun, Yifan, the tall one, had apparently been listening in.  "Jongin's a little more dramatic about it, but we like to think we're a little better than the average smuggler."

“What do you mean?” 

“You were right before, you know.  When you called us human smugglers, that’s why it hit Chanyeol so hard.  Usually we’re smuggling people to freedom though, instead of away.”

"How do you guys make money then?”

Jongin smirked back at him.  "When they can pay, we take what they can afford to give us.  When they can’t, we take as much as we can from whoever they’re running away from."  Yifan laughed behind him.  "And we run the occasional hold of normal cargo for the money."

The irony was not lost on Sehun, but he was also starting to think that maybe they were smuggling him to freedom after all.  The elation of seeing the city had filled him with a new hope; he wanted to see Pruce as well, and really, he was far more like a prisoner on _Paracielle_ than he was here.

Kyungsoo turned off into a shop near the end of the street, through a door underneath a won sign that simply said _Gunsmith_.  Sehun stuck by Jongin as the group filtered into the tiny dingy shop.  Glass cabinets and displays lined the walls, revealing an assortment of rifles and pistols.  They definitely didn’t look anything like the flintlock weapons Zitao trained with on Paracielle.

"Hello?" Kyungsoo shouted in the direction of the back.

"Yes, yes just a moment," a voice responded immediately.  Jongin was gazing with a wild-eyed excitement at a case of pistols.  Sehun followed his stare to one pistol in particular, a large one with inlaid with designs of gold, blue and silver swirls.

"Kyungsoo?" Jongin asked, eyes never leaving the display for a second.

"Yes, Jongin?"

"What do you think about me buying myself a pistol?"

"You're a grownup, I don't care."  Kyungsoo turned back around to greet the shopkeep as he emerged from the back of the shop, while Jongin muttered something under his breath that sounded an awful lot like _excellent_.

The shopkeep made the required courtesies with Kyungsoo before swooping in on them in a heartbeat.  "It's a very nice weapon.  Colt Dragoon, .44, single action, six shots, custom design.  Beautiful and dangerous," he finished in a self-satisfied voice.  It was a speech delivered so rapidly and concisely it had to be well rehearsed.

"How much is it?" Jongin asked, though the glitter in his eyes told Sehun he might agree no matter what was said.”

"Ten lyra" 

Kyungsoo had treaded over and interrupted before Jongin could say anything.  "What if we were also interested in buying eight Henry repeaters?  Would you cut the boy a deal?  He could fine one of those elsewhere for five."

The shopkeeper rung his hands, as if the very thought could kill him.  "Not like that he couldn't.  That design is custom made here.  We offer the best work for-"

"-the best prices, sure," Kyungsoo finished, the eye roll built into his response.  "But we came to you because Jongdae's friend recommended you.  I'm not Jongdae's friend though," he said, followed by a soft, indignant _hey_ from Jongdae's direction.  "So give me a reason to buy here and not elsewhere.  How much for a single rifle?"

"Fourteen, no less-"

"Do twelve lyra per rifle, plus eighty boxes of ammunition for which we'll pay fourteen total, sell my friend that pistol for eight and include four boxes of rounds and some powder.  Say yes and that's over a hundred lyra right now in your pocket.  It's a fair offer and you're still making a big profit; try to make a counteroffer and we leave right now and try somewhere else."

Kyungsoo had a steely determination that convinced Sehun to the core that he really would turn and walk directly out the door.  The shopkeep stared, stunned for a moment.

"Do you have eight rifles in right now?"

"I, uh, yes.  Yes we do."  He looked as if he was signing over his firstborn.  "Okay.  Yes, we can do those terms."

Kyungsoo mouth twisted into something that was closer to a smile than anything else Sehun had seen out of him yet.  "Excellent."

Jongin paid first, and the keeper opened the display and handed over the pistol, laying it in Jongin's outstretched hands like it was made of glass.  He then stepped around to the other side of the counter and withdrew a holster, a few boxes and a container of powder and slid them over the counter.  All settled, he waved Kyungsoo over with exaggerated weariness to write up the bill of sale.  Jongin tossed the munitions into his sack and tied the holster around his waist, over his shirt.  His glee was nearly palpable. 

"There was a book store across the street," Kyungsoo told them.  "Why don't you take Sehun over there and we'll be over in a moment?"

"Sure," Jongin grinned, almost bouncing.  "C'mon, Sehun."

As Sehun followed Jongin out of the shop, he again reflected on his treatment.  It was bizarre; they weren’t treating him at all like a prisoner.  It was probably dangerous to let himself feel too comfortable around these people, but there was something thrilling about being around people that didn’t report to his grandfather, and that weren’t Zitao.  A pang in his stomach reminded him of where he had left his friend when he had been taken, and he felt guilty for enjoying himself.

"Somewhere in here they'll have things on history," Jongin chattered aloud as they crossed the threshold and found themselves awash in the smell of knowledge.  Books stacked far higher than Sehun's head lined shelves that seemed for run the length of the deceptively small store.  An ancient man behind the counter smiled and nodded at them, but gave no impression of having actually heard them.  "Go on, look at books."  Sehun had to admit he was curious what sort of things he may find here.  One thing he could not doubt is that Paracielle's library was sorely out of date.  Sehun paced an aisle and selected an emerald-bound book at random.  The words were written in some foreign language, not helpful at all.

"Jongin..."

Jongin glanced over and realised the problem.  They weren't going to find their way around this shop without any organization.  "I'll try to ask him."  Jongin turned to the man and Sehun watched with amusement as Jongin tried to loudly request the Corbenician section while gesticulating what Sehun supposed was meant to represent history.  If Sehun was being honest with himself, the book wasn’t even necessary for his belief anymore; even just being in Massalia for half an hour had been enough to prove how out of touch Paracielle was.  There was nothing to be gained for Jongin by lying anyways, they already had him whether he understood why or not.  Still, it was fun watching him try to convey this concept without words.

Eventually Jongin realized he could spell it out by slowly tracing the letters across the old man's counter with his fingers, and once he finished the word he was met with emphatic nodding.  With surprising agility, the man circled the counter and led them to one of the further corners.  With wrinkled hands, he jabbed over at an area of books stacked on and around a shelf, and then grinned toothlessly at them and returned to his post.  Jongin and Sehun began searching through the books.

Many of them were from far before the period they were looking for, but as Sehun's fingers traced their spines he found one with an embossed _1842_ on its spine, underneath the title _Essays on Nationhood_.  Sehun pulled it off the shelf and rifled through the pages.  It seemed like a pretentious bore of a book, but as he flipped he came across a section titled "The Corbenician Monarchy".  His eyes skimmed the pages, not taking anything in until he found a relevant passage: "the removal of an autocratic royal leader, as was the case with Sehun III in 1789, becomes not only a requirement for revolution to occur, but an action necessitated by enlightenment ideals."  Sehun closed it and wordlessly set the book back in its place.  He had already known, inside, but the confirmation felt strange. 

Jongin glanced up from his own book at him.  "Find anything?"

"Yeah."  It was all Sehun felt like saying right now.  Later he would have to press Jongin for more details, but for now he felt as if he had learned enough.  Jongin grimaced apologetically.

"I'm sorry.  Hey, look at these symbols," he said, pointing at the book open in his hands.  It was obvious he was trying to distract Sehun, but he decided to humour him.  "Chanyeol has a map written in this, but we couldn't ever figure it out.  This book doesn't even know how to translate it, apparently it was the people who lived here before the Romans."

Sehun peered over and felt the elation that came with being the person who knew something for once.  Maybe Jongin had been able to cheer him up a little bit after all.  "Oh, I know that, it's Corb."  Well, assuming his education in that hadn’t been lies as well.

Jongin's jaw dropped.  "You can read it?  No one can read it," he stated immediately after as if it were fact.

Sehun shrugged.  "I was taught how to read it, we had a lot of really old books on it at the palace."  Maybe there was a bright side to being out of touch after all.  "Here, let me see."

Jongin passed him the book, which itself was mostly written in Corbenician and titled _A History of Corbenice to 450_.  The runes were in a diagram on the left side of the page, the copy of some etchings the author had found on a stone column somewhere to the north.

"Yeah, modern Corbenician is basically just Corb combined with Latin; the biggest difference is the alphabet.  I'd need time but I could read it.  This one's from a headstone... there's a name here.  And dates underneath."  Sehun smiled smugly to himself at his abilities.

"That’s amazing."  The look Jongin gave Sehun set a thousand butterflies free in his chest.  “Do you think you could translate the map?”

“I would think so?  The words, at least.” 

Just then, Jongdae appeared around the shelf.  "We're all set.  Did you get what you need?"

"We did," Jongin answered for both of him, eyes flicking over to Sehun’s face for a moment before returning to Jongdae.  "And Sehun can read those symbols on the map Chanyeol won from that grave digger."

"Really?"  Sehun nodded.  "That's fantastic, he'll be thrilled."  Jongdae thumped him on the back, and Sehun couldn’t fight the smile that took over his face.  Jongin returned the book to its shelf and they turned to leave the shop, passing by the elderly man who waved as they passed.

Once back on the street, Sehun saw the others, standing next to a pile of four heavy-looking bags of munitions with the rifles leaning on them.  It didn't take long for Jongdae and Jongin to tell the other two about Sehun's ability, and Sehun felt lighter than the _Anteron_ with the impressed glances the others gave him.  For the first time he was useful to someone, and impressive.  When they started to load up with their purchases for the walk back to the docks, Sehun took one of the bags without even being asked.  He was basking in the feel of being part of a group, and it made his load feel light as a feather.

The entire group was feeling especially amiable and high-spirited with their new toys and a possible new lead on something exciting, and the walk back was filled with loud chatter and laughter.  They were just reaching the open square where the airships moored when Kyungsoo froze at the front of their troop, "Hold on," he said, as everyone else came to a halt and a distracted Jongdae collided with Yifan's back.  "Something’s wrong."

"What do you mean something's wrong?" Jongdae asked, rubbing his nose and giving a confused Yifan a hard shove.

Kyungsoo whirled to face them.  "I just saw someone else on the deck of the ship.  It wasn't Chanyeol or Yixing," he added when Jongdae opened his mouth again.  "Or one of the others.  It was something different."

"Well where are they?" Yifan asked, squinting past him at the _Anteron_.

"Maybe he went belowdeck?  I don't like this; the Paraciellians must have found us already." Kyungsoo avoided eye contact with him as he spoke, but Sehun didn’t feel as pleased with that possibility as he knew he should.  “It could be nothing but I don't want to chance it.  Jongin, take Sehun and find a different vantage point on the square.  He's our bargaining chip if we need one."  For the first time, he glanced at him with an apologetic expression. "Take one of the rifles too Jongin, just in case, and load it as soon as you get the chance. Your pistol, too.  Find a spot and only come down if you see me make the signal."  Jongin nodded solemnly, keeping one of the rifles slung over his shoulder and passing the others to Yifan, and Sehun realized the entire time Kyungsoo had been speaking Jongdae had been discreetly loading a few of the rifles.  Once he had three set, they redistributed so each had a loaded one, and Kyungsoo turned and continued marching toward the ship as if he hadn't the slightest inkling that something was wrong, Jongdae and Yifan tagging along after him.

“Are they gonna be okay?”  Everything felt strange to Sehun, like it wasn’t real.  Was he really cheering for his kidnappers deep down?

"Come on," Jongin insisted instead, ignoring his question and tugging on Sehun's sleeve before turning and beginning to head in the opposite direction back down the street.  _Should he follow?_   If he wanted to escape, now was the time; there were guards from Paracielle here, ready to take him back to the palace.  _Back to the palace_.  Sehun frowned.  Jongin had only walked a few feet before noticing he wasn’t on his heels, and he gave Sehun a pleading look.  “Please, Sehun, the crew is on the ship.  If we can’t trade you back, we have no chance of escaping alive.  I know you have no reason to help us, but please.  Give us this.”  Face stoic, Sehun stepped in the direction Jongin was heading, and the other boy gave him a look of sheer gratitude.  “Thank you, Sehun.  We won’t forget this.”  Jongin turned and ran, glancing over his shoulder only once to ensure Sehun was still with him.  Sehun followed, and didn’t tell him he had already made his mind before Jongin’s appeal.

Jongin turned down a side street, leaving Sehun needing to sprint to keep pace.  Though not as bustling as the street they had been on before, it was still crowded and evading the dawdling people going on with their days was a challenge. He didn’t realize he was bowling into someone until he was knocked flat on his back.

"I'm so sorry I—" he started, trying to stand but faltering when he saw the man he had run into.  He hadn’t even fallen over, and both he and his friend were looking at Sehun with surprised eyes that flashed with recognition.

"That's him!" one shouted, while the other made a grab for him.  Sehun's reflexes told him _kick_ and he did, hard, into the man’s shin.  He groaned and dropped, but the other one was over Sehun and reaching down for him and—

 _Click._ The cocking of a pistol.

"Sehun, stand up now," Jongin's voice came from behind him, steady but icier than Sehun would have imagined he was capable of.  The man on the ground scrambled to his feet, and Sehun did the same.  Jongin had his new pistol out and trained on the one that Sehun hadn’t kicked.  Neither of them were from Paracielle, Sehun knew that for certain.  _How many people wanted him?_   It was a sharp contrast to his life before. 

"Come on," Jongin murmured, starting to slowly back away.  Sehun kept behind him, and as he gradually sped up in his retreat Sehun matched his pace.  "It's not loaded," Jongin whispered to him once they had put some distance between them.  "So on the count to three we need to run.  One, two, THREE!"  And Jongin turned on his heels and again they resumed sprinting in the direction they had been headed before, Sehun hot in his heels, and immediately the footsteps of their pursuers echoed shortly behind them.

Jongin turned the next opportunity they had, leading them up a short set of stone stairs to a passageway that wove between buildings.   A burst of speed brought them to the far end, where it merged with another, less-crowded street.  Sehun made the mistake of stopping at the end to glance back to see if the men were still pursuing them.  Both were making their way up the stairs only a hundred yards away with their own pistols drawn.  One locked eyes with Sehun, raised his gun and fired.  Sehun found himself being yanked by the arm out of the way just in time to watch it explode against the corner of the wall, sending dust and fragments of brick spraying into the air. 

"Don’t stop," Jongin reminded him insistently, and again they were off.  Seeing an open door to the right, Jongin ducked into it without concern as to what it was or to whom it belonged to.  It seemed to Sehun to be some sort of multi-family dwelling; doors led off the hallway and at the end, a stairway circled around on itself leading to higher floors.  They made their best pace to the top of the staircase, pursued still by the heavy breathing of the other two following them up.  At the very top, it ended in a lone door that Jongin put his shoulder through, suddenly washing them in a light breeze and sunshine as the opened onto the roof.

Jongin took a moment to glance around, and Sehun wished he could have taken hours.  Everything was so blue and bright, and buildings stretched on as far as he could see right down to the glittering blue water.  But once Jongin had situated himself, he was off again and Sehun gave chase.  Soon the men were once more on their tail, and Sehun felted his stomach clench when there was a loud crack from behind them and a shot whizzed past somewhere far too close for comfort.  _They’re trying to kill us_. 

"We're going to have to jump," Jongin shouted beside him, and Sehun immediately saw what he was talking about: their rooftop was running out.  They were on top of one of the buildings that flanked the passage they had passed down earlier, and Jongin intended to jump the gap.  Another gunshot slammed into a chimney beside Sehun, and he was equally committed.

Proud of his lack of hesitation, he put in a sudden burst of speed and jumped, easily clearing the space and, after a fraction of a second’s recovery, carried on, Jongin still at his side.  A moment later, there was a scream that got more distant as it went and then cut off suddenly; one of their pursuers hadn’t mad the jump.  Sehun tried not to think about it; the other was still hot on their tale and he needed to keep running. 

"Down here, up ahead," Jongin breathed as they were beginning to near the end of their second roof.  He reached the edge of the roof and dropped, landing harshly on a balcony that Sehun hadn’t even noticed from above.  He tried to do the same, but when he connected with the deck he cried out as he felt something in his ankle give.  "Come on, come on," Jongin murmured, grabbing Sehun's arm and hooking it around his shoulders, giving him the leverage needed to pull Sehun out of open sight and inside. 

It appeared to be a typical bedroom, sparsely decorated but with a few pieces: a bed; a chest, a wardrobe.  That was where Jongin decided to hide him, aiding Sehun as he climbed in, ankle still throbbing painfully.  Jongin passed him the rifle, despite its uselessness without ammo and closed the doors shut.  "Stay here," Jongin whispered, and Sehun opened one door just enough to watch through a crack as Jongin quietly treaded over the wall beside the balcony, just in case the other man followed. 

What was only seconds felt like hours before the reverberations of the man dropping from the roof to the balcony shook through the room.  Jongin was ready, coiled, and the moment the man stepped in from the balcony, Jongin pounced…

And collided directly with their pursuer’s fist.  It had come up so quickly Sehun hadn't even seen it form, and it knocked Jongin to the floor, clutching his stomach.  "Where is he?" the man asked, and for the first time Sehun noticed the hint of an accent.  "Tell me where he is and this is easier."  He kicked Jongin, still not even yet recovered from the first hit.  Sehun's hands tightened around the gun, wishing it was loaded.  Another kick, this time without the question, and Jongin cried out.  _Fuck it_ , Sehun thought, and before he could think better he was halfway out the wardrobe.  The man barely began to turn when Sehun was swinging the rifle at him, holding it by the barrel and bringing the stock to collide with the man's skull as hard as he could.  There was a crack so loud it may as well have been gunshot, and the man dropped to the ground.  Sehun wasn't far behind him, as the moment he let the gun fall from his hands he surrendered to the shooting pain in his leg, and it went out beneath.  He lay there a moment, panting.  Jongin was starting to pick himself up off the floor, the other man was unmoving.  _Had he just killed another human being?_   Jongin's life --and his own he supposed-- had been in danger, and he had only acted as necessary, but the thought still filled him with revulsion.

Jongin knelt beside Sehun's victim, movements stiff with the lingering pain of the hits.  He held a hand over their attacker’s face for a moment, and then looked at Sehun.  "He's breathing: just unconscious.  We need to go now though, can you walk?"

"With help," Sehun grimaced as he tried to stand without placing any weight on his right foot. 

Jongin picked up the rifle and slung it over his shoulder.  "Give me your arm then, we need to see if the others are all right."  Sehun did so, and they made their way out of the room and down some stairs, leaving through the front door onto the street.

 

◊ ◊ ◊ ◊ ◊ ◊ ◊ ◊ ◊ ◊ ◊ ◊ ◊ ◊ ◊ ◊ ◊ ◊ ◊ ◊ ◊ ◊ ◊ ◊ ◊ ◊ ◊

 

They were moving a little easier by the time they returned to the _Anteron_ , but Sehun's heartrate had yet to slow.  Every sudden noise, every person that walked a little too closely set him into internal panic.  Luckily however, the sight of an armed young man assisting an injured one walk kept most people at a distance.  Sehun's ankle, still in agony, meant he had to limp with an arm over Jongin's shoulder, and despite it all he was just infinitely grateful to have the comfort of physical contact.

After leaving the building in which the skirmish had occurred, they had made their way to a street adjoining the square from which Jongin had spotted the signal that meant it was safe to return: an orange flag hung off the prow.  Together the two of them made their way back quickly but cautiously, unsure of how many more men there may be.

As they set foot once again on the deck, busy with the crew as they readied for emergency takeoff, Sehun could feel Jongin finally begin to relax.  Within moments, Yixing was coming out of the cabin to assist Jongin in bringing Sehun inside.

"What happened?  How painful is it?  Can you put any weight on it?"

"Just get him inside, Yixing," Jongin said, and together they entered the cabin amidst the bustle.  Jongin helped bring Sehun to one of the seats that was arranged around the same dining table as before, and set him down.  "I need to go outside and help, Yixing will look you over."

"Okay," Sehun replied, feeling a little out of it.  Funnily enough, the foot that hadn't bothered him as much while they were trying to return to the ship was now starting to ache more noticeably that he was off of it. 

Jongin smiled encouragingly —if a little distractedly— at him.  "You'll be safe, Sehun.  I promise."

Sehun groaned as Yixing pulled his shoe off, but before he could respond Jongin was gone.  He gritted his teeth as Yixing began to press on the various areas of his foot, peppering him with questions that Sehun struggled to answer.  Finally, Yixing reached his diagnosis.

"It's not broken I don't think, just a sprain, and not a very bad one either."  Sehun's protest was cut off when he resumed: "It's painful certainly, but it won’t take long to heal.  Stay off for it for the next two or three days and it should be fine without any treatment.  Just sit here until we take off, Chanyeol will want to speak to you anyways.  I've never seen him so furious."

Sehun's blood chilled.  _Did he think this was my fault?_   They had been shooting at him as well, after all.  _Wait._   "Yixing, was everyone okay?"

The surprise on the doctor’s face told Sehun that this was not a concern he had anticipated from him.  "Yes, yes.  Kyungsoo hurt his hand but it was from breaking someone’s jaw so it’s all good.  Everyone's safe, we're just focussing on getting out of here right away."

Without waiting to answer any more of the questions burning in Sehun’s head, Yixing turned and vacated the room, heading back out to help with liftoff.  From within the cabin, the familiar shouting of a crew trying to coordinate was muffled, but it was not long at all before Sehun could feel the ship lifting.  The panoramic windows facing out from the aft of the ship gave him a view of the market slowly beginning to fall away, and as it did it was replaced with a view of the city.  Bright blue Mediterranean waters buttressed the city, it’s buildings pushed out to the very edge of the water.  Docks ran along the length of the city, most with a moderate amount of ships using them, though as more altitude was gained Sehun realised their docks were old and in ill repair when compared to the other airdocks spaced around the city.  The few he could see looked just like the one they had been, but all were packed with ships coming, going or moored.  Paracielle's two ships were surpassed by even the least impressive of ships, and Sehun was again reminded of his home.

Paracielle was a palace of exile.  The Kings of Corbenice were not something that was wanted or needed anymore, and that was all Sehun had been bred and raised for.  What did he do now?  And the lies.  His grandfather’s dishonesty he could understand well enough, and perhaps even his father.  But Junmyeon?  And his mother?  They hadn't ever given him the slightest indication of the full truth.  _Did Zitao know too?_   He had been to the surface for training.  The possibility of that hit Sehun even harder than the all the rest combined. 

It had only been two days, and he was already unsure if he could even return home anymore.  As he pondered what else had been lies and what had been truth, the surface disappeared far below and was replaced by a faint wispy sea of cloud that the _Anteron_ seemed to just float on in delicate balance.

Despite his thoughts, it was so peaceful floating back in the sky that Sehun nearly fell out of his chair when Chanyeol smashed through the doors and stormed over to Sehun.  He only just stopped himself from flinching as Chanyeol yanked a chair out from the table and slammed down on it with movements so aggressive and jagged that it terrified Sehun.  When Chanyeol spoke, the words came out far more concerned than he could have anticipated.

"Are you alright?"

Stunned, and still a little intimidated, Sehun stammered "Yes, Yixing says my foot will be better in a few days—"

"That's good, but I didn't mean your foot.  I meant you.  How are you?"

That hadn't been what he had expected at all.  "I'm... I don't know.  I'm alright, I'm feeling alright.  Just confused.  And a little scared," he ended in a quieter voice than he had started in.  By this time some other members of the crew had come inside and began to congregate around them.

"I'll bet," Chanyeol said.  "Jongin told me what happened.  About being chased.  About how you saved him."  Sehun looked around the room for Jongin, but he wasn’t there.

"Who were they?" he asked, realising this is the question he should have asked immediately. 

"Prucians," Chanyeol answered, nearly spitting the word as he opened his fist, revealing a crumpled piece of paper that Sehun hadn’t even known he had been holding.  He began unfolding it.  "Turns out they weren't as interested in keeping up their side of the deal as we were.  We were supposed to meet them in Pruce for the handover.  Instead they showed up barely after we had set down and asked where you were.  I told them you were out, they were surprised and told us they'd wait at the ship until you got back.  Thankfully Kyungsoo sent you off, because otherwise they would have taken you away the moment you showed up.  Once Soo, Yifan and Jongdae showed up without you though, the head one, he started to suspect we were ripping him off.  Things got tense; Kyungsoo smacked the shit out of him."  Sehun glanced over at the first mate, who grinned proudly and held out his fist to show the angry purple that marred his knuckles.  "And I guess they had people patrolling too, because they went after you.  The four that were on the _Anteron_ we were able to overpower and retake the ship, and thankfully you and Jongin were alright because afterwards we searched them and found this telegram."  As he spoke, he had unfurled the piece of paper and uncreased it on the corner of the table, and now he held it out to Sehun.  “It’s a way to send messages quickly,” he explained, after Sehun expressed confusion at the word.

Unable to concentrate, he skimmed it five times before he was actually able to even find any meaning in the words, though some of his confusion could be attributed to the strange format.  "Retrieve prince at any cost dead if necessary STOP Arrest Captain and kill others STOP recover ship and return with prince STOP."  _They were trying to kill us.  Me and Jongin_.  If Jongin hadn't been around, the Prucians have taken or killed Sehun, and had he acted differently, they would have certainly killed Jongin.  And if Kyungsoo hadn't sent Sehun off, the men would have had everything they wanted.  Sehun and Chanyeol would have been arrested and then would have had to watch as the rest were executed.  _So much could have gone wrong today._

Sehun figured he should be angrier at Chanyeol and the crew; he had been promised a perfectly peaceful and amicable imprisonment in Pruce, though this made it abundantly clear that would not have been likely.  But still, Sehun couldn't find it in himself to be angry.  Chanyeol and the others, even the usually stoic Yifan and Kyungsoo seemed shocked and ashamed.  They hadn't expected this either, and had things gone different they would have been even worse off than him. 

He passed the note back to Chanyeol, who promptly crumpled it again and locked it in a white-knuckled fist.  "We are so, so sorry, Sehun.  Please trust me when I say we had no idea.  None at all; we were promised you would be treated as a guest.  If I had known they were even willing to have you assassinated as an alternative I would have spat in their face.  And even after everything all that, you saved Jongin's life."

"So now, of course, we'll return you home.  We're all ashamed of what we did in the first place and this has made it ten times worse, so I pray you can find it in yourself to forgive us.  We’ll forever be in your debt.  We owe you a favour.  We owe you several favours.  If you ever need anything that's in our power, we'll leave you a way to contact us and we'll make sure it gets done."  The rest of the crew nodded in agreement as he spoke.

 _Home._   The very thought made his gut churn.  Could he go home?  Back to his grandfather, who he feared; to Junmyeon and Zitao, who he had loved and trusted more than anyone else.  Nothing about home felt appealing in that moment; not the suffocating propriety, not the expectations, definitely not the future planned out for him against his will.  He looked around at the faces in the room with him: Chanyeol, looking truly wracked with guilt; Baekhyun, more serious than he had seen him yet; Jongdae, eyes fixed on the ground but flickering up to meet Sehun's and sadly smiling apologetically; Luhan, who was just staring at Sehun with a look that was more curiosity.  He thought of Jongin, wherever he was.  All the things he had said about responsibility, and needing to understand the world.  He thought of Jongin smiling at him.

"Actually," Sehun said, after a long silence.  "I think I'd like to join your crew.  If you'd have me."  Chanyeol could not have looked more shocked if he tried, eyes unnervingly wide.  “Hear me out.  First of all, you owe me.  Second of all, you’ve already proved I’m not safe on Paracielle, and so if you guys are going to be on the run from the Prucians, the _Anteron_ is kind of the safest place for me.  And I can translate that map, Jongin told me about it, the one with the weird symbols.  I can lead you to whatever its hiding.”  Sehun gained the confidence as he spoke, until it was exploding out of him.  _This was what he wanted._

No one spoke for the longest moment, though off to the side Luhan had split into an ear-to-ear grin.  Chanyeol’s expression, however, was unreadable.  Finally, Chanyeol reached over and clapped him on the back.  "Welcome to the crew of the _Anteron_ , Sehun."


	4. A New Friend

Sehun stood at the front of the ship, leaning over the rail to watch the prow carve its way through the sea of cottony white beneath them, buoying the _Anteron_ along as if it were floating on the clouds themselves.  Behind him, somewhere, Kyungsoo was yelling something at Yifan, while Baekhyun was sitting on a barrel, legs too short to reach the ground, swearing as he attempted to piece back together some sort of winch that had been broken earlier that day.

It had been a week since their escape from Massalia, and it had already been the best of his life.  He slept with the crew, ate with them, hung around during their down time.  And they seemed to like him well enough, too; even Kyungsoo, the scariest of them, would put up with his pestering questions awhile before tiring and unloading him onto Baekhyun or another one of the chattier members.  Chanyeol showed him their maps, and told him all about the places they had been: all over Africa, the Americas, Europe, even to India and the near East.  Everything on the maps looked different from the maps Sehun had seen before: the corners had been filled in and the countries, while still mostly in the same places, were different sizes and shapes.  According to Chanyeol, there were still islands being found but everything else had been mapped.  It was the entire world on a roll of paper.

Everyone was at least a little willing to fill him in on everything Paracielle had missed in the last seventy years; everyone, that is, except for Jongin.  Since their escape, Sehun had been barely able to get a word out of him.  He saw him around: at dinner, when he’d sit on the far side of the table unspeaking, or occasionally abovedeck, walking around with his new pistol on his hip.  Chanyeol had forbade him from taking it up on the rigging, but everywhere else, he wore it.  Any attempt Sehun made to speak with him would only receive a few mumbled words and a complete avoidance of eye contact.

Aside from the frosty treatment he was already loving his time spent aboard the _Anteron_ , although he was starting to get tired of being just a passenger.  It hadn't taken Sehun too long to translate the Phoenician tablet; apparently Chanyeol had won it in a game of dice and had been hanging onto it ever since, always looking for someone to decipher it for him.  He had figured it would lead to treasure or at least something exciting, and Sehun couldn’t blame him: the symbols betrayed little meaning to one who couldn’t understand them, but the pictures carved underneath were intriguing.  One was what appeared to be some sort of orb or gem, resting on a pedestal.  The other was a little less clear, though to Sehun it looked almost like a key: a circled X within another larger concentric circle connected by a thin band, and on the opposite side the larger circle was attached by a narrow mouth that flared out into a long, wide rectangle before narrowing again at the end.

Sehun’s ankle had immobilized him for the first couple days leaving him plenty of time to sit and examine the runes.  Luhan had insisted upon helping him, although Sehun soon learned “helping” meant murmuring to himself while scrawling indecipherably on a piece of parchment at lightning speed as Sehun struggled to remember the Phoenician characters.  Once he had gotten those decoded, however, Luhan actually proved invaluable.  Phoenician bore heavy similarities to Hebrew, which Luhan happened to understand.  In fact, Luhan seemed to understand a lot of languages, though Sehun was proud to note he was utterly hopeless decoding Phoenician until Sehun translated the characters to Greek.  On the rare occasion, Luhan would let slip on his face how embarrassing this was for him, and Sehun reveled in these fleeting moments when Luhan would confirm he was at least a little human.

Sehun turned away from the bow, walking back over a still-immaculate deck, passing Kyungsoo on the steps up to the stern where Chanyeol was steering the ship.

"Does something need doing, Captain?"  It wasn't particularly windy right then, but he had learned to make sure he was heard when he were on deck and high in the sky.

Chanyeol gave him an amused look.  Sehun had come to quite like him since the whole kidnapping thing had been done away with.  He and the rest of the crew had genuinely thought they were only minorly inconveniencing him to save their lives, and now that he had not only been freed but allowed to accompany them on their adventure, he was having a hard time holding a grudge

"Sehun," he replied —getting him to use Sehun's given name had taken longer than the others, though he was finally getting it down— "You don't need to work, we owe you more than enough.  Plus, once we get that gemstone, we’ll owe you even more."

The words on the tablet had been translated by Sehun and Luhan out to _Serenus, calmer of the seas and tamer of the winds, heart and eye of Carthage_ , and Chanyeol had immediately been certain that the orb on the pedestal was “the Heart of Carthage, or Eye or whatever” and that it would be worth a fortune.  Sehun and Luhan had been more excited at the word Carthage though, as it gave them a location, and it was then that Luhan had realized and pointed out to Sehun that the other diagram was no picture at all, but the famed two harbours of Ancient Carthage.   The long rectangular one for merchants, the circular one for military, and the X in the middle for their treasure.  The entire crew had been thrilled, Minseok had somehow summoned up roast pork to serve them and their course was diverted for Tunisia and the ruins of Carthage.

"I want to work."  It was shocking to hear from his mouth, but it was true.  Sehun was not only bored watching the others worked while he stared at the surface below; he wanted to prove himself.  All the others were a team, they worked together and trusted each other, and there was no way Sehun could ever be a part of that if he didn't pull his weight.  "Don't you need someone to, I don’t know, swab the decks or something?"

Chanyeol barked with laughter.  "No, no we don't need that up here, the deck doesn't get dirty."  He looked thoughtful a moment.  "You could ask Minseok if he needs help."

"Minseok chased me out last time I helped after I cut the carrots wrong.  I didn't even chop them any different than him."  He smiled at the memory; despite the very large, very sharp knives that seemed to always be in the cook's hands, he was fun to wind up.  It was clear why Baekhyun did it so often.

Chanyeol sighed, though he smiled a bit at the thought.  "Well, then I guess you can go up to see if Jongin needs help, he's always busy with the rigging, he never had to spend that much time before we got the _Anteron_."  Chanyeol's eyes widened mid-sentence as if he had had an idea.  "Yes, go help Jongin."

That wasn't what Sehun had been hoping for.  Jongin clearly didn't want him up there, and despite his monkey-like climbing abilities up the tethers, Sehun didn't have the same confidence in his coordination.   "Chanyeol—"

"Nope.  Captain's orders," Chanyeol affirmed, resolute despite the smug smile creeping onto his face.  "It's time you start learning about the maintenance of the _Anteron_.  Just be careful on the rigging, tie off if you need to.  Ask Baekhyun," he finished before Sehun could ask what that entailed.

The worst part was that Sehun couldn't even complain too much; after all, it was exactly what he had asked for.  Dragging his feet to make his point, he made his way back to the front of the ship and Baekhyun.

"Baekhyun, I need to go up there," he said, pointing dumbly at the giant balloons tethered overhead

"Really? Have fun," the other replied, not even looking up from his work.  While in Massalia he had bought a tall, cylindrical black hat with a brim, wearing it at all times about and insisting it was currently the height of London fashion.  From his questions, Sehun had gleaned the origins of a few of the crew members, and by relating accents he could construe a few more.  Baekhyun was English, he had told Sehun as much himself, and Yifan, Kyungsoo and Chanyeol spoke much the same, and they seemed the closest as well.  Yixing sounded similar to those four, but different enough that Sehun wasn't quite comfortable enough to lump him in with them.  Luhan seemed to switch accents depending on who he was speaking to or his mood, and Jongdae’s and Minseok's were entirely foreign to Sehun. 

After a moment of staring expectantly at Baekhyun, he peered up at Sehun from under the brim of his hat.  "What?"

"Chanyeol said to ask you about tying off."

"Oh.  Oh yeah.  Yeah, that would be bad if you fell.  Here," Baekhyun said, pulling a leather and rope contraption from under himself.  "Wear the belt, and as you climb, clip it onto the rigging.  That way, if you fall, this will catch you."

Sehun eyed it warily; it didn't look very sturdy.  "It'll hold my weight?"

Baekhyun shrugged.  "That's for you to tell me if you fall.  I made it but none of us have had that misfortune yet.  I mean, don't fall.  Just don't.  But if you _do_ , you'll be in the perfect position to tell me how well if works.  Or not, because you'll die, but even that way I'll be able to make an inference."

Much as Sehun liked Baekhyun, he was learning he could be a complete ass.  "Is there even a point to me wearing this?"

"Well, if you fall it's either a fifty-fifty chance you die or a hundred-percent chance.  You pick."  Baekhyun's eyes returned to his project before Sehun had even finished taking the belt from him.

Sehun strapped it on and resisted the urge to make a comment about how little it was even on his narrow waist, giving the rope a solid tug to see if it would come snapping off.  It didn't, but Sehun still had little confidence.

"Okay, I'm going now."

"Have fun."

Sehun stepped over to the gridded rope rigging that connected the enormous balloons to the hull.  He could do this; he had no problem with heights.  He just had to clamber over the rail and grab the rigging from the other side so he could climb to the top.  _And not fall_.  Holding on for dear life, he did just that, climbing over the railing and hooking both feet and an arm firmly in the ropes.  After some brief confusion, he realized where the clip on his belt was supposed to connect: along the length of the rigging were separate ropes, each about three yards long tied at the top and bottom to the rigging, allowing him to clip on to those, climb, and then reclip and the end of one and the start of another.  He had to give it to Baekhyun, it was quite clever.  If it held.

After mooring himself to the safety line, Sehun began to climb.  Foot over foot and hand over hand, he made progress, only allowing himself to pause once he had to transfer his safety line.  What Sehun hadn't noticed at the beginning of his climb was just how much wider than the hull the two balloons were, meaning that rather than a straight vertical climb, he was actually on the underside of a slight angle that made the climb even more harrowing.  Rather than dwelling on it, however, he continued to climb.

Thankfully, despite his lack of muscle he was able to pull his light frame up without too much difficulty, and it wasn't long before he was about three stories off of the deck and beginning to climb over the balloon itself.  The mesh rigging covered the entirety of the canvas surfaces, making them all traversable, he supposed, though he pitied anyone who had to work on the underside.  But as they carried up and over the top of the canvas, his climbing surface became the easiest to climb and he was able to clamber over the last hump to the top.

Once he had reached the very top, he allowed himself to lay down a moment.  Up here the netting was finer, meant to be walked on without having to worry about putting your foot through, but it also had the side effect of making it much comfier to lay down on.  After resting a moment and revelling in his accomplishment, he detached his line, decided the top was flat and big enough —about long enough for five or six of him to lay head to toe, and near as wide— that he wouldn’t have to worry about falling off so long as he stayed to the middle.

The clear blue sky overhead warmed his skin, and it was immediately apparent as to how Jongin was able maintain his beautiful skin tone if he spent the majority of his time up here.  As if on cue, at that very moment Jongin came pulling himself  up from the far end, goggles obscuring his eyes, climbing without a safety line and an ease that made Sehun embarrassed of his own lack of grace reaching the top.  Spotting Sehun laying on the rigging, he visibly hesitated before coming over, walking impressively steady on the elastic surface.

"What are you doing up here?"  It was said with an expression that was part confused, part concerned, and —Sehun was most pleased to note— part impressed.

"Chanyeol sent me up to see if you needed help," Sehun answered, trying to maintain a steady voice to hide his still-heavy breathing from the climb.

Jongin pulled his goggles up to rest on his forehead, revealing a face that was still unreadable, and repeated blankly: "Chanyeol sent you to help me."

"Yeah..." Now that he was up here, he realised how ridiculous it really was. He wasn't going to be any help up here; he didn't even fully understand what Jongin did up here.

"Well, you're up here now," Jongin shrugged.  "Come on," he waved for Sehun to follow him into the center of the two balloons, which Sehun did with far less grace and stability.  Jongin flopped down in the middle, and the sudden depression threw Sehun so off balance that he fell right over, rolling down into the dip between the two balloons and, to his horror, right on top of Jongin.

 _Oh no._ Jongin had already been avoiding Sehun and now this was going to make it all worse.  He was making noises underneath him, muffled by Sehun's body, and he hurriedly pulled himself off trying to knee or elbow Jongin as little as possible.  It wasn't until Sehun was partway through his eight apology that he realised Jongin was laughing.

After a second, Sehun joined in laughing just as hard, though not as much for the humour as it was the relief that Jongin wasn't angry at him.  Not wanting to ruin the moment, he decided to wait Jongin speak first, and slowly both of their laughter trailed off into silence.

Settling in beside Jongin at a comfortable distance, he let himself relax.  Now he definitely understood the goggles: above the clouds there was nothing to keep the full power of the sunlight out of Sehun's eyes, so he let them flutter comfortably shut.  Just as he started to give up on waiting for Jongin to speak first, he was rewarded.

"How was the climb?" It wasn't the easy banter he had slung at Sehun on his first two days, but it was better than the total lack of conversation that had been going on before.

"It was alright.  Easy."  Jongin guffawed and Sehun grinned.  "I'll be better than you in no time."  Jongin didn't reply, and Sehun worried he had done something to bother Jongin again.  Opening his eyelid just enough to stealthily peek at the other boy, he was satisfied when he saw a smile just as big as his own.

Now that the silence was more comfortable, Sehun let himself truly relax.  After another five minutes or so, Jongin spoke of his own volition again.  "I'm sorry."

"For what?"  He received a dumbfounded look.  "Oh, for that, yeah."

"More than just that.  We almost handed you over to people who might have killed you—"

"You didn't once you knew."

"But we almost did, and I even managed to convince myself that it would be good for you.  And then even after all that you saved me.  You risked your own life to save me."

Jongin had always spoken with such conviction.  Seeing him this vulnerable was uncomfortable.  "He would have killed you."

Jongin looked directly at him, guilt overflowing from his dark eyes, and despite the seriousness of the conversation, Sehun had to resist laughing at how cute a pouty Jongin was.  "Jongin, it's... I'm not angry."  Jongin clearly didn't believe him.  "I'm serious!  If anything bothers me, it's that you've been hiding from me since I got here."  Just then, Sehun put it together.  It hadn't been that Jongin had been upset with him; he had been upset with himself.

"Really?"  This Jongin was so different from the one he had first met; so young and unsure.  It was endearing, if an little disconcerting, and this time Sehun couldn't keep himself from laughing.

"Yes.  All I've wanted to do is to talk to you and you've been talking to me less than when I was your actual prisoner.

Jongin shifted uncomfortable in the netting.  "I'm sorry, I just feel so guilty."

"Well, knock it off."  Jongin smiled, tentatively, but it was certainly an improvement over his distress a moment ago.  "And don't avoid me anymore, you're supposed to be in charge of me, remember?"  Jongin laughed, finally, and inwardly Sehun celebrated his victory.

They lapsed back in to silence, and then Jongin said "I'm sorry."

Rather than let him wallow, Sehun decided to ignore it.  "So what's your job up here?"

Jongin began to explain his tasks, at first grudgingly after Sehun's deflection, but as he spoke his mood improved.  "The _Anteron_ 's a lot different than the airships you had on Paracielle.  First of all, we don't use Ohydrogen.  Most still do, but the Prucians have been using a new gas called solium for their ships.  It’s got more lift, and it's much more stable, so the slightest spark doesn't blow the whole thing up.  I mean, all ships should really use it, but it's not cheap."  Jongin smirked sardonically to himself.  "We probably should have known better than to think they were just going to give us a ship worth more than a minor nation’s navy."

Sehun knew the mechanics of air travel; he had grown up in the palace that had necessitated its invention, and it was one thing for which the Oh dynasty could claim credit.  You needed Ohydrogen, easy enough to create by charging water and collecting the gases it released, and once you had enough to fill a balloon you could attach it to your hull, which needed to be feather light.  Ohydrogen was lighter than air, which meant it would float up into space without being tied to something, and if your hull was too light it wouldn't come back down either.  Too heavy though and it wouldn't take off: you needed to balance the lift of the balloon with the weight of everything else just close enough that you could gain and lose altitude simply by using a horizontal rudder.  As long as the total airship's weight ended up being equal to the weight of a similar-sized volume of air, it was free to move however it needed so long as it had momentum.

According to Jongin, however, there was another key difference.  "Your Ohydrogen ships on Paracielle just had one big balloon full of lifting gas, which meant the slightest puncture would pretty much leave you stuck on the ground.  A couple decades ago, they started compartmentalizing with smaller balloons of Ohydrogen grouped together in the main one so if you got a puncture, you aren't going to lose all the gas you have on hand.  Now ships carry spare metal tanks filled with highly-pressurized gas in case they need to top up their balloons."

"So your job is to replace the missing ones?"

"When it happens, but it doesn't.  Instead I just have to make sure they’re all always intact and pressurized, which is harder than you’d think."

"It's a dangerous job though?" Sehun asked, feeling stupid for even saying it immediately after.  Of course it was unsafe, best case scenario if he fell from up here he'd be seriously injured though more likely killed once he hit the deck, or he'd miss the lower part of the ship altogether and fall all the way down to the surface.

Jongin shrugged, as if the question didn't bother him.  "Someone needs to do it, and I don't have a problem with the height.  I'm also a really good climber," he added, and Sehun's traitorous eyes flicked down to his arms for a moment.  "But the best part is that it's not a lot of work.  I check in the morning and again right before sleeping, but inbetween I can spend as much time as I'd like up here without being asked to do anything."

Sehun laughed at his honesty.  "So really, I got the best job when Chanyeol sent me to help you."

Jongin glanced over at him before looking overhead and letting his eyes shut again.  "You really did.  It's got the best people to work with too."

Sehun laughed again, and let his own eyes close, doing little to stop the orange sunlight glowing through the translucence of his eyelids.  The sun was warm on his face, but Sehun felt warm inside too; Jongin was acting comfortable with him once more, and it hadn't even taken much.  Jongin mystified Sehun still, but he was starting to pin him down.  Jongin just needed reassurance, a confirmation, and it could smooth out his anxieties almost immediately so long as someone told him things were okay.

It was another piece of the Jongin puzzle, and Sehun was determined to start putting it together now that he had the chance.  The wind was fluttering through his hair, and in honour of his breakthrough with Jongin he allowed himself to fall asleep imagining it was the other boy's fingers in his hair and his cheeks warming at the thought.

 

◊ ◊ ◊ ◊ ◊ ◊ ◊ ◊ ◊ ◊ ◊ ◊ ◊ ◊ ◊ ◊ ◊ ◊ ◊ ◊ ◊ ◊ ◊ ◊ ◊ ◊ ◊

  

After leaving Massalia they had gone further west, the opposite direction from Pruce for prudence's sake.  But once Chanyeol had made the course correction for Tunisia they were headed southeast, and the long trip over the Mediterranean had begun, leaving Sehun with less scenery to admire.  Instead he busied himself admiring Jongin inbetween learning more about Jongin's job and how to do it, spending most of his time up above lying on the netting and talking.  He had already improved by miles with his climbing, and soon the trip up or down the rigging was routine.

He got Jongin to tell him about their travels and all the places they had been, about how the crew had met each other.  Jongin's story wasn't especially interesting, he had just joined on two years ago when Chanyeol's last ship, the _Lady Luck_ had made port at his city.

“How did Chanyeol become a smuggler?” he asked one day while lying on the rigging with Jongin.  The sun was setting, making the horizon far more beautiful and far less blinding.

Jongin side-eyed him, eyebrow quirked.  “That sounds like a question for Chanyeol.”

Sehun gave his shoulder a half-hearted shove.  He had become more physical with Jongin lately— it was how he acted around Zitao, he reasoned, so why couldn’t he touch Jongin?  As always when his thoughts wandered to his friend on Paracielle, he got a jolt of guilt at how he had left him.  As the days passed, however, it got easier and easier to patch up with anger and betrayal.  “You’re not doing anything right now, and I like your storytelling better.  Chanyeol uses all that ridiculous flowery language.” 

It was true. Sehun had learned more and more that his new Captain was a major fan of reading whatever he could get his hands on, and tried to speak as his favourite writers wrote.  Within recent years, authors had apparently started publishing novels in serial form, just a few chapters every month or so.  Sehun couldn’t understand why someone would want to wait a month to find out what happened next in a book, but Chanyeol loved it.  Whenever a new issue was out, he’d insist upon reading it to the crew aloud over dinner, much to Jongdae’s chagrin.  It was not something Sehun had had to endure yet, but with Chanyeol’s excited declaration that they would set down within Tunis so he could visit a bookstore before going in search of whatever the map lead to.

Jongin didn’t pay any attention to his last sentence, smirking happily at Sehun.  “You like my stories best?”  Sehun shoved him again, just because.

“I said better, don’t push your luck.”  Jongin laughed, and Sehun wasn’t certain when the distance between them had become simultaneously not enough and far too much.  Jongin rolled onto his side to face Sehun, stretching an arm over his head so he could rest his cheek on it.  Sehun felt the searching gaze on his face, and after a moment of hesitance he mirrored the position.

“So… how Chanyeol got his start?”  Sehun nodded his head.  Speaking would feel too intimate right now, lying next to Jongin and looking into his face.  The air was starting to get cool, and below he knew Minseok would soon be calling the crew for dinner.

“I mean, Chanyeol or one of the other three could give you a more detailed account, but this is what I know:  “Chanyeol and Kyungsoo grew up together in London.  Their families were close before they were even born: Chanyeol’s father was Prucian and Kyungsoo’s parents were Russian-Jewish, and they both met on the immigrant ship over to Britain.  They ended up becoming good friends, and once Chanyeol’s father had married and they both had kids, they grew up inseparable.”

“Once they both came of age, they were conscripted into the Navy.  Now even ten years ago, airships were a lot less advanced than the _Anteron_.  Kyungsoo and Chanyeol ended up on a tiny little ship someone with a sense of irony had dubbed the HMS Boundless Empire.  It only had a crew of five, so there was a captain, and then Kyungsoo, Chanyeol, and Baekhyun and Yifan.”

“They were charged with the aerial cartography of Africa.  They were doing this for a few months, until one month they had set down to resupply and their captain got himself killed trying to rip off some natives in an on-the-side ivory deal.  According to Baekhyun he was a real bastard like that.  So they decided that night to desert with the ship, name Chanyeol captain, and take up smuggling—“

Jongin got cut off by the ear-splitting sound of Minseok ringing the dinner bell, and Sehun resolved to throw the noisy brass monstrosity overboard the next opportunity he got.  Most of the crew would probably help him.

“I guess we should head down?” Jongin gaze had drifted off while he had been telling his story, but now it was back to being uncomfortably fixed on Sehun.  “I’ll finish the story tomorrow later.”

That was the exact opposite of what he wanted, but shivers from the night air were beginning to take over his body, and he acquiesced.  The climb down was quick; Sehun had gotten better and better, and at this point changing the line he was clipped to was the only thing slowing him down.  He was almost ready to do away with the belt entirely.

Dinner was nice enough, for a lacklustre effort from Minseok.  Sehun had learned early on that their cook saved his effort up for the occasional feast, and everything between was usually a little less than impressive, what Minseok called “stew” and everyone else called “slop.”  He listened with amusement as the crew mused over dinner what they hoped to find in Tunis, and noticed how much more he enjoyed his slop after Jongin turned to him and asked what _he_ thought it would be.

Once everyone had eaten and it came time to sleep, Sehun settled into his hammock.  He was restless at first, until he turned onto his side and found it felt just like the rigging had earlier that evening.  The sensation brought back all that Jongin had told him the night before.  He let the memory lull him to sleep, and it wasn’t until he was on the brink of losing consciousness that he realized he wasn’t even thinking of Jongin’s words anymore, just the movements of his face as he spoke.

 

◊ ◊ ◊ ◊ ◊ ◊ ◊ ◊ ◊ ◊ ◊ ◊ ◊ ◊ ◊ ◊ ◊ ◊ ◊ ◊ ◊ ◊ ◊ ◊ ◊ ◊ ◊

 

The next day was one of torture, and Sehun cursed his proactivity when Chanyeol sent him to go help Baekhyun with something while Jongin climbed the rigging to attend to his own tasks.  He spent the rest of that day being sent from crew member to crew member for some job or another.  By the late afternoon, he was ordered to the ship’s armoury to find Jongdae pulling one of their new rifles apart. 

“Gotta keep’em clean,” Jongdae told him around the piece of metal he was holding in his mouth.  “Take one and do what I do.”  So Sehun sat across from him and followed all of the other man’s actions, taking the rifle apart piece by piece and then passing them to Jongdae for cleaning and oiling. 

As he worked, Jongdae explained to him how they worked.  “Henry repeater, brand new model.  Were you guys still using flintlock weapons on Paracielle?”  Sehun nodded, and Jongdae laughed at him.  Jongdae laughed at everyone though, Sehun had learned not to take it personally.  “Did you ever get to fire one?”

“No.”  It had been something else forbidden by his grandfather.  Pistol and rifle marksmanship were a big part of Zitao’s training, but handling such undignified weapons were apparently beneath the Prince of Corbenice.

“Did you ever see them fired?”

“Oh, yeah.  Lots.”  It had been Zitao’s favourite subject, and sometimes Sehun watched him practice with combined admiration and envy.

“But just one at a time right?  You fire, and then you need to powder the barrel, push the wadding and the bullet down, fire, repeat.  It takes forever, right?  Not these things.”  He finished piecing together the rifle he had been holding.  “Here, look—” He opened one of the boxes of ammunition and motioned for Sehun to hold his hand out, dumping a few in his greasy palms.  They were definitely different from the spherical bullets Zitao fired; these ones were rounded at the tip but cylindrical and encased in a brass shell.  “.44 Henry.  The powder and bullet are combined so you don’t have to load them separately.  But it gets even better.  Okay here,” Jongdae said, getting more and more obviously excited and grabbing the half-reassembled rifle from Sehun, piecing it together in half the time it had taken Sehun to put the first two parts together.  He handed it back to Sehun and took a few bullets himself.  “Do what I do.”  In exaggeratedly slow movements, he demonstrated how to open the rifle for loading.  Sehun mimicked him.  “Know you just slide the bullets down this tube— yep, just like that.  Should fit sixteen.”  Sehun counted out the rest.  “Okay, good.  Then, you just close it up like this.”  Again, Sehun followed his instructions.  Only then did he become aware he was holding a loaded weapon.

Jongdae looked at him with a smile plagued with mischief.  “Now, wanna go fire these off the side of the ship?”

Sehun really _really_ did.  Handling it like it could go off at any minute, Sehun followed Jongdae, carrying his rifle up to the top deck and allowing himself be lead over to the side rail.  The crew that was abovedeck gathered around them.  Sehun couldn’t help but think Jongdae had somehow intentionally picked a time when Chanyeol and Kyungsoo were not abovedeck.  “Okay, so ready?” Jongdae asked, looking to Sehun.  “These things can fire one after the other, so watch me okay?”

And he began to fire.  Even outside, with nothing to echo off of it deafened him.  Jongdae fired shot after shot, screaming with a giddy childlike excitement and cranking the guard over his hand forward and back each time, ejecting the brass shells from the bullets and, Sehun assumed, loaded the next round.  Sehun had to admit, despite the noise and the fact that there was nothing to aim at but clouds, it looked like fun.  Once he had fired a few more, Jongdae turned back to Sehun.  “That’s amazing, Your turn.”

He was a little scared but ready.  Holding it against his shoulder like he had always seen  
Zitao do, he pointed it off into the distance.  His finger curled around the trigger, he was surprised by how much force it took, and when it finally pulled back he jumped with surprise.  The crew laughed at that and it intermingled with the ringing in his ears.  “Lever,” Jongdae reminded him, and he did, cranking it hard forward and then back, just like he had seen.  He was rewarded with a satisfactory _click-click_ and the ejection of the casing.  Without warning, he began firing off shot after shot just like Jongdae had, feeling a grin take over his face.  _Zitao would have been so jealous_.  He had lost count of how many he had fired when Jongdae stopped him with a hand on his shoulder. 

“What?” he asked, aware he was shouting but too gleeful to care.

Jongdae’s up-to-no-good face made an encore.  “You need a target to shoot at.  Hold on,” he said, darting into the cabin and returning almost immediately with a mostly-empty glass bottle.  He walked the length of the ship and balanced it carefully on the railing at the bow.  Once he had returned to their group, he said “Go on, shoot the bottle.”

Sehun was about to tell him he wouldn’t be able to hit a target like that from here, but Jongdae was insistent.  “Quickly, quickly, just try.”  Sehun shrugged and aimed, this time trying to use the sights.  The first shot missed, but the second shot found its mark, exploding the bottle into glittering bits of sunlight on the deck and the gaggle of crew around him erupted in a roar of awe, cheering and clapping him on his back.  Someone took the rifle from his hands, probably to have their own turn, when Kyungsoo’s sharp voice cut through the energy.

“JONGDAE.”  The first mate was advancing out from the cabin.  “You told me you were firing off of the side of the ship and I come out here finding you encouraging Sehun to shoot up the damn ship—“

Even with a gun in his hands, Jongdae looked more scared than an armless man taking on a bear.  Everyone else was wise enough to slip away back to their previous tasks, and Sehun decided to follow their examples while Kyungsoo was still distracted with Jongdae.  He decided he would go and see how Jongin was doing, electing to forgo the belt this time.

The climb got easier and easier each time he did it, though it still took time and by the time he reached the top the sun was again sinking over the horizon.  He found Jongin lying in their usual spot, and Sehun joined him.  The other boy’s eyes were closed, and at first Sehun thought he was sleeping before he spoke, startling him.  “Have fun?”

Sehun couldn’t even lie.  “Loads.”

Jongin opened his eyes and turned back onto his side, dredging up memories of the night before and how Sehun had felt.  “It looked like fun.”

“You saw?”  Jongin nodded.  Really, it was obvious he must have heard but Sehun didn’t know if he would have made the effort to climb to the underside to watch.  “Did you see me hit the bottle?”  He made no effort to hide his pride in this feat, eliciting a laugh.

“I did.  You’re a born marksman, I’m going to have to show you how to shoot the pistol sometime.”  They laid there, joking and chattering about nothing in particular.  Sehun told him about all the tasks he had been put to that day while Jongin listened with amused patience.  It wasn’t until the sun was nearly set that he remembered what he had been so excited for that morning.  “What about the story?  The one from last night—“

“Right,” Jongin said, as if he too had forgotten.  “Should I finish?”

“Yes.  You had just gotten to the part when they started smuggling.”

“Oh right, okay, so their ship, the _Boundless Empire,_ was tiny, but there was good money to be made in the area for tiny airships.  Naval vessels were still needed to take big loads of goods out of India to Europe, but it meant going all the way around Africa.  Airships couldn’t carry as much, but they were much faster; they could just pass over the Near East.  But these big slow ships ended up being big slow moving targets for pirates.”

“Ooh are there going to be other pirates in this story?”

“I don’t know, maybe you should just let me tell it and find out.  Anyway, so Chanyeol and them started running luxury goods out of India, and the _Boundless Empire_ ’s size meant they could usually outpace anything that came near them.  Then did this for a year, but then one day while they were passing over Arabia, they saw someone down below wandering over the sand dunes.  There were no cities or anything else for leagues around, and no water either.  They were so concerned that they agreed to set down and take the person to at least the next city they passed over.”

“Who was it?”

“Hold on, I’ll tell you who it is.  You’ve ruined the suspense.  So they set down and welcomed the strange figure aboard.  Somehow in the heat, he was dressed in heavy dark robes, without a canteen or a drop of water on him.  He was young looking, a bit younger than them, they thought, but he definitely wasn’t a local. Fair skin and pretty eyes—“

“Ohhhh it was Luhan,” Sehun interjected once more.

Jongin’s shoulders slumped.  “Yes, it was Luhan.  If you interrupt me again I’m not finishing.  So they just found him there, walking around.  Even now if you ask him what he was doing there, he’ll just tell you he was just “lost.”  Apparently even at the time he was entirely nonchalant about the whole thing.  So they had picked him up, and they were trying to get altitude again when Kyungsoo spotted another ship heading their direction.  Everyone started panicking; stopping to pick up Luhan meant that they had to slow down, and they wouldn’t be able to regain full speed to evade the ship headed in their direction.  But while everyone was in meltdown mode, trying to decide whether to try running or to accept their fate, Luhan told them to hold course.  Baekhyun thought he was crazy, apparently he nearly hit Luhan because he just had that stupid, mildly-amused expression on, telling them to sail straight.”

“Chanyeol ended up doing as he said, just because it wasn’t as if they had a better option.  So they held course; the other ship, which once it got closer they knew for sure was pirates, passed by.  It wasn’t even eight ship-lengths away, and it passed right by without even noticing them.  It was so close that Baekhyun still insists Yifan pissed himself a bit.  They couldn’t figure out what had happened, until Chanyeol thought to ask Luhan, still calmly smiling off into space.  And he told them: he’s one of the last sorcerers still alive.”

“Wait, what?  Luhan is a sorcerer?”  All this time Sehun had thought he was just strange.

“It’s odd, isn’t it?  But it makes sense once you hear it.  He only eats when he feels like it, only sleeps when he wants.”

“What is he doing on this ship?”  There were sorcerers still alive, but well before even Paracielle had been cut off they were tremendously rare.  Jongin had mentioned before that one was working for the Prucians and had been a big part of recent technology development, but other than that he hadn’t known any that were accounted for.

Jongin shrugged.  “None of us ever know what’s going on in his head.  But everyone likes him, and he seems to be rather fond of the crew as well.  I mean, he’s a huge advantage to our smuggling; he’s able to hide us from other ship’s attention as long as they aren’t already looking for us.  We’re not really sure about how much more he can do than that, he’s always a little weird about his powers.”

This ship got stranger and stranger the longer he was on it, although he had to admit it was in a thrilling sort of way.  _An actual sorcerer!_   “And what about the others?  Yixing and Minseok and Jongdae?”

“Well, once Luhan started accompanying them on their voyages, they were even more successful and able to take quicker, riskier routes.  They ended up making quite a bit of money, and once they had enough they sold the _Boundless Empire_ and bought the _Lady Luck_ , which was big enough for a few more crew members, and Minseok, Jongdae, Yixing, and eventually me ended up joining.”

Once again, the dinner bell shattered the peace between them.  Wordlessly, Jongin rose to a seated position and Sehun mirrored him, shaking from his mind the flashbacks to having done the exact same with Zitao at a place far away.  “Where’s your belt,” Jongin asked with concern, having only just noticed its absence.

“I forwent it this time.”

Jongin was horrified.  “What if you fall?”

Sehun shrugged.  He really shouldn’t wind Jongin up like this but he was basking in the concern.  “I guess I better not fall.”  He was shivering again; he wanted to get down quickly before it got much colder.  Jongin, however, picked up in this in an instant.

“Look, you’re freezing,” he said, and before Sehun could flinch away, Jongin’s hands were clasped around his own.  They were rough, but _warm_ , and it felt as if his fingers were melting in their embrace.  Jongin was oblivious to how much Sehun was enjoying it.  “If your hands get too cold or shiver they can spasm or clench up and you could fall and—“

“Jongin,” Sehun cut him off.  “I’m not going to fall.”  He was able to say it with a lot more certainty than he felt, but this was becoming far too big of a deal.  Jongin clambered all around the rigging without a belt; Sehun was just climbing up and down.  If anyone should be worried, it was Sehun.

Thankfully, this seemed to be enough to silence Jongin, and he let go of Sehun’s hands leaving them both unhappy.  But as they climbed down safely, they shouted their predictions on what atrocity Minseok had decided to feed them that night, and by the time both their feet had hit the deck, the atmosphere was back to being as warm as Jongin’s hands.

Dinner was the typical boisterous affair, but after his busy day Sehun found himself feeling too tired to participate much.  By the time he lugged himself to his hammock, his eyes were already half shut.  That night, he dreamed he was climbing on the rigging with Jongin, and time after time he fell.  He couldn’t stop himself, every time he gained a couple feet he would lose his group and begin to plummet down.  But every time, Jongin was right behind him, and he would catch Sehun, dust him off and he’d climb again.  Every time he fell, Jongin caught him.


	5. An Old Friend

The following morning, without as many chores as he had been given the previous day, he picked up a bit more detail on the later additions to the crew from Baekhyun while Jongin was too busy to entertain him.  Sehun quickly discovered how fond the boatswain was of gossiping to someone who actually wanted to listen.

"Minseok's on the run.  He was a chef for an important family, cooked for them breakfast, lunch and dinner.  But apparently they were a nasty bunch, always mistreating their servants.  Minseok doesn't like to talk about it, I had to get him drunk, but," Baekhyun told him, stifling giggles, "the lady of the house had this cat that Minseok absolutely hated.  It got treated better than the rest of the household put together, and he was always insulted that she would get him to prepare meals especially for the cat.  So one day he snapped, the cat went missing, and that night the lady was served a very special stew."  By the end, Baekhyun was barely able to finish for his story between his laughter, and Sehun listened in amused horror.  "He left that night and has never been back, probably never can go back.  He ended up at an Inn we used to frequent between jobs, and Chanyeol pinched him the moment we got a ship with a galley."

Sehun learned a few other things too: Jongdae was an especially able scrapper that they had met in a bar one time after a patron had decided he didn't like the future Luhan had read for him.  Jongdae had come to his rescue and since then had been welcomed as a lively part of the crew.  “Always had a bit of a soft spot for Luhan, no matter what he says.  He likes guns, too, you might have noticed.  So Chanyeol gave him the title of armourer, even though we didn’t actually have more than two guns on the ship until our shopping stop in Massalia.”

And Yixing?  "Oh, Yixing was an opium addict.  Irish, besides.  He owed quite a bit of money, and Chanyeol offered to help him out if he'd be out ship doctor."  After seeing Sehun's face, he clarified "He's not addicted anymore, somehow he got off the stuff.  Did some weird things to his head, you may have noticed he's a little dazed sometimes.  But you won't find a purer heart anywhere, and he's a damn good doctor."

He was also able to pick up everyone else’s countries of origin: Yifan was Scottish, Minseok was Greek, and Jongdae had been born in Naples.  National identity didn’t seem to be a big cause for division among the crew, Sehun noticed with interest.  They were all outcasts from their home, just like him.

His attempts to learn more about Luhan tended to quickly hit a brick wall, however.  “Where are you from?”   A long ways away.  “How did you learn to be a sorcerer?” Practice.  “How old are you really?”

“Depends.  My soul is old but my body is young.  Or maybe it’s the other way around.”  After especially vague answers like this, he would drift off in thought until Sehun slung another question at him.

“Where is your brooch from?” Sehun had asked, pointing at the pattern of connected circles pinned to his robes.  

Luhan had frowned thoughtfully at that, and Sehun internally congratulated himself on eliciting such a reaction from him, only half-surprised it had been with one of his most inane questions yet.   “I’m not sure where it’s from, but I know where it found me.”

He didn’t drift off this time but instead stared expectantly at Sehun, so he asked a follow-up.  “It found you?  Not the other way around?”

Luhan had shaken his head.  “It’s imbued with strong magic, ancient magic.  It knows where it’s going, I’m just its temporary vessel.”  

Sehun had fought to suppress his giggles at the thought of Luhan taking his directions from a pin. “Where is it telling you to go right now?”

“With you, Oh Sehun,” Luhan had replied, eyes staring uncomfortably into Sehun’s soul, as always.

Strange as they were though, Sehun had been finding the crew still incredibly welcoming, and as time passed he felt he was becoming seen as less of a guest and more as part of the crew.  Kyungsoo had no problem giving him orders from the start, but now the others were also getting more comfortable teaching him how to help in the sailing of the _Anteron_ , and Sehun was learning new skills each day and by the time he settled into his bed at night, a tiny bunk over Jongdae's, he felt sore but accomplished.

But when he wasn't working or learning about the crew his favourite past time was quickly becoming watching Jongin.  Whether he was eating in the morning with his typically drowsy eyes or clambering around on the rigging, Sehun would watch every movement as if he would be tested on it next week by Junmyeon.  He knew it was a little much, but everything Jongin did was just so great.  It was the little things: the way he sniffled in the mornings, or how he would laugh whenever Sehun did something funny.  Deep inside, Sehun knew he was skirting dangerous territory, but he was already feeling freer than he had ever before, why not make the most of not having to be terrified of his desires for once?  He wasn't that serious about it anyways, he could just honestly admit to himself that Jongin was cute.  _And funny and kind and bright and so so attractive_.  Last afternoon, while Sehun had been up above with him chattering away, the heat had resulted in Jongin shucking his shirt while he worked.  The way his lean muscles glistened under a thin sheen of sweat had Sehun needing to roll over onto his front until it was safe to once again lie on his back.

And Jongin was nice to him.  The entire crew was, but Jongin especially so; he was always making sure Sehun was included in the crew's lively dinnertime discussions, asking him if he was okay.  He was looking out for Sehun, and he seemed to legitimately care for him.  He was friendly with the others, but Jongin was quickly becoming his Friend.  It was the first opportunity Sehun had ever had to make one for himself; his only friend on Paracielle had been Zitao, and they had grown up together.  Getting a chance to learn about a person and have them learn about him at the same time was exciting, as was the feeling of getting a little more stitched together each day.  Sehun just hoped Jongin felt the same way.

 

◊ ◊ ◊ ◊ ◊ ◊ ◊ ◊ ◊ ◊ ◊ ◊ ◊ ◊ ◊ ◊ ◊ ◊ ◊ ◊ ◊ ◊ ◊ ◊ ◊ ◊ ◊

 

Five days later, they floated over Tunis.

At first glance, it was similar to Massalia: hundreds of square buildings sprawled along the seashore, cobbled together with little attention paid to an organizational principle or each other.  Once he got closer though, the colours were different, the buildings were different; everything was different.  He had fallen out of Corbenician familiarity and into the world.

After some discussion as to whether they should moor the ship on the city outskirts or set it down in one of the airdocks, Chanyeol and Kyungsoo decided that one of the airdocks should be fine.  Unlike Massalia, which had been an obvious stop for them to make after taking Sehun, there was no chance and Prucians would be lying in wait for them in Tunis.  It was on the other side of the sea, and when they had left Massalia they had been headed in an entirely different direction before changing course. 

When they came in low over the white, squared buildings, Sehun ensured he was an active member of the crew.  Every order to _hold this rope_ or _take this to Baekhyun_ was followed with speed and obedience.  He may have been a lackey, but he was determined to earn his keep, and he savoured the impressed looks the crew shot each other over his head.  They came to rest in the airdock that was closest to their destination, and to Sehun it looked much like the one in Massalia.  Once it was securely moored the crew disembarked.  Spirits high and mood buoyant, they cut an energetic and noisy procession across the city towards the ruins of the Carthage harbour.

Sehun was fascinated by what he saw as they went.  He had grown up in Corbenician homogeneity, and now he had been dropped among people who dressed different and spoke different.  Artisans, merchants and salespeople were selling brilliantly coloured weaving and metalwork delicious-looking foods that dripped grease as they roasted.  There would be little time to stop and dally now though, the rest of the crew was on a mission.  Chanyeol had asked the first person they had seen at the airdock the direction in which they could find the ruins of Carthage, and he had been pointed in the right direction, although their guide was left a little confused as to why anyone would be interested in a bunch of half-fallen over stones.

Once they actually reached their destination, Sehun realised how much difference two millennia could make.  The lived-in, contemporary houses dropped off abruptly into stony rubble from a civilization long since disintegrated, leading right up to the water.  Sehun could make out the resemblance, though barely: a circular lake with a peninsula in the middle topped off by a crumbling structure, the remnants of the naval harbour.  Just south of it, the remains of the long merchants harbour was in even worse shape, with most of the seawall eroded and even broken through in places.  Nature had reclaimed them, and had Sehun not known what they were he would have assumed nature created them as well.  The crew began their circumnavigation of the former military harbour to reach the tip of the peninsula, where the X was marked on the tablet.

Everyone was uncharacteristically silent, treating it almost like a graveyard, until Baekhyun couldn’t contain himself any longer.  “So what’s the deal here?  What happened to Carthage?”  Kyungsoo rolled his eyes, but Sehun answered him.

“Carthage was a Phoenician city state over two thousand years ago.  They were actually quite prosperous, but they grew and came into competition with the Romans, and the Romans put a stop to that.”  The center had become quite lush now, overgrown with shrubs and grass, but the remnants were unmistakeable.  “Somewhere here.”

Everyone spread out and began pacing among the ruins.  Remnants of ship sheds encircled the former island, ramps on which their ships could be parked, although at this point there was little more than a few pillars and the stone of the ramps.  In the very middle there had obviously been some sort of actual building, as traces of the foundation lingered.  But at the very center of this former building though, there was a squat, cylindrical stone column just the right height to be a table or something similar.  Yet as Sehun examined it, he discovered something extraordinary.

“Uh, Luhan?”

The sorcerer was circling the remains, touching all the columns as if in doing so they could communicate with him.  “Yes?”

 “Bring your brooch here.”  Upon hearing this, Luhan hurried over excitedly.

“You found it?” he asked, already unpinning it from his shoulder before Sehun could even explain what he had encountered: a perfect depression cut into the side of the stone pedestal, the exact shape and size of Luhan’s treasure.

“Found what?  You were expecting this?”

“Oh yes,” responded Luhan, nodding emphatically.  “I told you, it lead me to the crew who lead me to you who lead me to here.  Nothing is accidental.”  Sehun couldn’t even begin to comprehend, but it didn’t matter.  Everyone had realized something was occurring now, even Jongdae’s bewildered questions about how Luhan had a matching symbol was silenced as Luhan pressed his piece into the depression, fitting perfectly. 

Nothing happened.  No one moved, no one even breathed for fear it might disturb something, until Sehun felt it.  The tiniest of vibrations beneath his feet, until it grew and grew into a rumble, and with the grind of stone on stone the column began to sink into the ground.  Everyone stepped back in surprise, but then found themselves leaning back in as it continued to sink past the stone floor, deeper and deeper until they were all standing around a shaft.  Not too deep, perhaps only a head taller than Sehun. 

“Well,” said Chanyeol, voice shaky.  “Who wants to go in first?”

No one volunteered.  Finally Luhan stepped forward, and Sehun could tell this was not something anyone expected.

“Are you sure?” Chanyeol asked him.

Luhan’s mind already looked made up.  He nodded.

“Okay then,” said Chanyeol.  “We’ll help you down.”  He and Yifan each took one of Luhan’s arms by the wrist and helped lower him into the hole.  He disappeared from sight for a moment into the darkness, and then a moment later there was the sound of fingers snapping and a dull glow emanated from inside. 

“Everything okay?” Chanyeol called down.  Luhan being this proactive was obviously startling to the crew. 

Luhan’s voice called back, “Yes, come down,” but it lacked its usual ethereal quality.  There was disappointment there, clear and obvious.  Sehun decided he wasn’t going to wait for anyone else and lowered himself down into the whole as gently as he could using the ledge, careful not to land on the ankle that he had just sprained a week ago.

Luhan was in the center of a small circular room, big enough to fit the entire crew of the _Anteron_ but only just.  A small flame flickered in the palm of his hand, lighting him in an otherworldly glow that stole Sehun’s breath away.  This was the first time he had truly see him use any sort of magic, and it amazed him.  Kyungsoo came down after him, and then Yifan and Chanyeol.

“What is it?” Kyungsoo asked, but Sehun had already realised the cause for Luhan’s disappointment.  In the center of the room stood the pedestal, the exact one from the diagram on the tablet, the home of the orb. 

It was empty.

 

———

 

“All I know,” Baekhyun said on the way back, breaking the long silence, “Is that I want to get very very drunk tonight.”

“Tunisia,” reminded Kyungsoo.  “No alcohol.”

“Fuck.”

This disappointment was emblematic of that felt by the whole crew, and everyone slumped back into misery until Minseok spoke a few moments later, tentative.  “I suppose we can spare a few casks of the gin—“

“YESSS” Baekhyun shouted, completely oblivious of his obnoxiousness.  As they neared the airdock, Baekhyun was picking up speed in the direction of the _Anteron_ , while Minseok was hot on his heels throwing out words like _restraint_ and _conserving_ and other sentiments that held no meaning for Baekhyun.

It was evening by the time they had returned, so Minseok began preparing dinner while the others sat around the dinner table in the cabin, passing around a bottle of clear liquid and trying to forget the disappointment of their day.  Sehun clutched his still empty glass to his chest.  “I’m sorry, everyone,” he said finally.  Everyone stopped and stared at him. 

“Don’t be sorry,” Kyungsoo said, not in a reassuring way but in a commanding way.

“Yeah, you didn’t tell us to come, you just finally solved a mystery that had been bothering us for a long time.  If anything, we owe you an apology for getting you to waste your time translating it,” Yixing added, and Jongdae nodded his agreement.  Jongin just gave him a look that simultaneously said _stop that_ and _are you okay_ , and when he rested a hand on Sehun’s leg he found that he was.  These were his friends now.  They weren’t his grandfather.

“Here,” said Yifan, passing him one of the bottles that had been circulating.  Sehun took it, and carefully poured his glass part-full like he had watched the others do.  He had had grown up drinking wine, he was Corbenician after all, but this was something new.  He knew Baekhyun would tell him that gin was a drink for English gentlemen and that maybe Sehun couldn’t handle it.  Sehun was going to show him tonight, though.  “To Sehun,” Yifan said raising his glass, “And new friends.”  The rest of the table echoed him, glasses were clinked, and Sehun felt the warmth spread through his chest before the alcohol even touched his lips.

 

———

 

“It tastes gross, but not bad?” Sehun found himself saying blearily, half-slumped over the table two hours later.  “It tastes like trees taste probably.”  He was making a fool of himself, but luckily there were few in any position to judge.  Jongin was sitting beside him, handing off of his every word and giggling after each sentence, equally if not more rosy-faced.  Kyungsoo had drank an astounding amount of alcohol for his size yet didn’t display any symptoms of drunkenness and Jongdae had slunk off quietly once they all realized Luhan had disappeared once they arrived back at the ship, but Chanyeol, Yifan, Minseok and Yixing were engaged in a rather loud and apparently very funny conversation about… something.  Sehun couldn’t summon the attention to focus on anything other than the way Jongin was staring at him and trying to continue to ramble on about anything so Jongin would continue to laugh for him.  Yet just then, looking at Jongin he found he had run out of things to say.  So instead, he said: “Y’know, you’re… you’re really, really attractive.”  _Had he just said that?_   He should be feeling ashamed, or embarrassed, but it’s Jongin that looks shy.  Sehun began to panic when the other boy suddenly hopped to his feet with the slightest unsteadiness, but was relieved when Jongin turned to him with a smile. 

“Let’s go outside for some air.”

Sehun let himself be led by the clammy hand around his wrist out of the cabin, letting the door swing shut on the boisterous discussion inside.  Jongin took him down the length of the deck, and once at the end he started as if he was going to sit on the railing with his legs hanging over, but partway through thought better of it and instead sat on the deck, leaning against the railing.  Sehun sat beside him.  It wasn’t close enough though, apparently, because Jongin scooted over until he was pressed against his side.  Sehun was already glowing from the inside, and that was before Jongin even spoke.

“I think you’re a really interesting person Oh Sehun.”  He says it with full seriousness, and Sehun fights himself not to laugh at how adorably sleepy Jongin is right now.  His entire body is buzzing like a hummingbird, and he doesn’t know what to say so he says: “Oh yeah?”

“Yeah,” Jongin shot back, nodding his head in agreement with himself.  He mumbled something, too quiet and too quick for Sehun to hear.

“What?”

“I said… I said I think you’re a really cute person too,” Jongin repeated, and this time even Sehun wasn’t dumb enough to miss it.  Before he could even sort his rational thoughts from pure ecstasy, Jongin’s lips were being pressed hastily to his cheek, and every remaining rational thought was tossed overboard.  It was quick, but Sehun could still feel where Jongin’s lips were.  He turned to face Jongin but the moment he did Jongin’s mouth was on him again, this time on his own lips.  It was soft, and warm, like his entire body had just sunk into a warm bath, just the perfect temperature.  Jongin’s hands were on his shoulders, but Sehun had no clue what to do with his so they just hung stupidly at his side.  _It doesn’t matter_.  Nothing mattered, only Jongin.

 

◊ ◊ ◊ ◊ ◊ ◊ ◊ ◊ ◊ ◊ ◊ ◊ ◊ ◊ ◊ ◊ ◊ ◊ ◊ ◊ ◊ ◊ ◊ ◊ ◊ ◊ ◊

 

The last two days had been the best of Sehun’s life.  The disappointment of finding nothing in Tunis had been quickly wiped away by the rapture of finding something a thousand times better than anything he could have imagined.  Jongin was… _his courter? Lover?_   None of these labels quite fit the increasingly large place in his heart he had reserved for the rigger, but Sehun was unconcerned.  All that mattered was that Jongin was his now.

The night of this realization had been spent intoxicated, and Jongin’s mouth had gotten him drunker yet.  They had sat there, in the darkness, kissing and huddled together, too entranced to discuss the development that even Jongin, the instigator, seemed surprised by.  When Sehun had been awoken by the stirrings of activity in the airdock, still curled into Jongin’s side and painfully sore from sleeping on the hard wooden deck, his sleepy contentedness had quickly curdled into terror.  What if Jongin regretted what had happened?  He had been drunk after all.  What did Sehun do?  Apologize?  Pretend it hadn’t happened?  Solutions and disastrous outcomes flitted through Sehun’s head as he extricated himself from the thankfully still asleep Jongin and stiffly hobbled across the deck to the cabin, where an infuriatingly chipper Minseok was serving a breakfast of sausage and eggs to the few members of the crew who had been able to haul themselves to the table.  Sehun had felt enormously relieved that everyone else was feeling less than chatty, and he was able to sit undisturbed. 

This small solace had not lasted long, however, because after the door swung open and shut behind him he soon sat in silent horror as Jongin pulled out a chair and sat beside him.  Sehun had ignored him, not difficult considering he was frozen in place anyways, until after a moment Sehun had felt Jongin’s knee bump against his under the table.  It had startled him enough that he glanced over in Jongin’s direction, and it was over.  Jongin’s eyes, brown and warm, were a maelstrom that Sehun was never able to escape once he was in their pull, and soon he had been drawn down into their depths.  The reassurance they harboured had been enough to ease his gut, and soon he and Jongin had slid right back into how they had acted before: easy laughs and playful jibes, teasing the remaining crew as they stumbled into the cabin with bleary eyes.  Things had actually been so unchanged that Sehun had begun to notice a sinking feeling he hadn’t expected, and he struggled to remind himself that he shouldn’t get greedy.  After what he had done last night, this was the best possible outcome, he had assured himself.

But these tethers were soon cut once everyone had eaten and Chanyeol had given the order to prepare for liftoff.  The crew had filtered out of the cabin until it was just Jongin and Sehun left, but as Sehun had made to follow them, Jongin had stood between him and the door.  “Don’t think you’re getting out of this yet,” he had said to Sehun, pressing a pointed finger into Sehun’s bony chest.  “I’m not through with you, Oh Sehun.”  He had left Sehun standing mouth agape, and by the time Sehun had been able to muster himself enough to follow him through the door Jongin was already halfway up the rigging.

Sehun would learn just how not through with him Jongin was later that day, after they had successfully lifted off and had a short crew meeting decided the _Anteron_ would make for Britain where they would resupply and relax until a job presented itself.  A day earlier, and Sehun would have spent hours dreaming of what London would be like.  But today’s Sehun had instead let himself be pulled away by Jongin and led up the rigging, until they could collapse into the center, this time with Jongin closing the small distance that had remained.  And there they had spent the rest of the day: kissing and talking, and then kissing again and talking some more. 

It was just like before, Sehun had realized, only infinitely better now with the inclusion of the physical contact he had only dreamt of before.  The rest of that day and the next had been much the same, drifting lazily over the Mediterranean and enjoying each other’s company unabashedly.  Sehun would explore Jongin’s hands while the other bay lay lazily beside him, asking about scars Jongin couldn’t remember the cause of and running his fingers over the rough callouses until Jongin would start laughing and roll over on top of him until they were both laughing until it hurt.  They tried their best to rein it in during mealtimes around the others, though at one dinner a game of footsies had escalated to the point that Sehun kicked under the table, trying to hit Jongin’s shins but instead hitting Yifan’s, earning them a very suspicious look from Kyungsoo.  Sehun was also certain he had seen Luhan wink at him on more than one occasion, though for all he understood of Luhan that could have been for anything.

On the third afternoon, they finally began to discuss the last few days.  "When did you know?"

"Know what?" Sehun didn't know whether he meant liking boys or liking Jongin.  Either one would be strange to talk about; he was so used to burying it deep down inside of him whenever he was speaking to others, even Zitao.

Jongin writhed around on top of him until he found a position that was apparently comfortable, lying on top of him and looking up with his chin resting on Sehun's chest.  "That you liked me?  In... This way?"  Sehun was still not used to this Jongin, the one would surface for a few minutes every so often after hours of lying together and seem so uncertain and guilty.  He hadn't said anything more about the kidnapping since the first few days and Sehun had thought he was over it, so maybe this was something else?  Sehun would start to panic that Jongin didn't want to be _this_ with him anymore, but then just like that Jongin would return to his usual confidant caring self, pulling Sehun back up close to himself.

Now that he thought about it, Sehun didn’t know the exact moment when it had clicked in his head.  “I don’t know,” he said honestly.  “It just… happened.”  This was so embarrassing, but Jongin was looking at him with such earnest expectation.  “You were attractive from the beginning, but I guess I really knew once we started spending time together up here.”   _It had been inevitable at that point_.  He couldn’t look at Jongin anymore.  He had only just started allowing himself to admit these things to himself, let alone Jongin.  His eyes turned upwards to the few white clouds drifting overhead, only just barely obscuring the sun.  Jongin’s fingers interlaced with his.

“Since then? Really?”  Still uncertain.

“Yeah, of course,” Sehun replied.  He turned to look back at Jongin, realizing that whatever this moment was, it was important, only to find the other boy now trying very hard to not look at Sehun.  He was going to refuse to speak until he realised Jongin wasn’t just avoiding eye contact anymore; he had seen something.

“What is it?”

“There,” he answered, pointing northeast, just a few degrees away from the direction they were headed.

Slowly growing in the distance was land: rolling green hills that emerged from the blue waters.  But that wasn't what Jongin had seen; Sehun was spotting it now too: a blip really, hardly anything, but it was directly ahead of them. 

"Will that be a problem?" Sehun asked, and Jongin shrugged.

"Could be.  Or maybe it's just merchants, it's hard to say.  We should tell Chanyeol though."  They both began their descent to the deck, climbing quickly.  Sehun couldn't confirm it, but he was fairly certain the shape was growing larger on the horizon.  Jongin started shouting to Chanyeol, standing with Yifan at the helm, before they were even entirely down.  "Ship approaching."

By the time they reached the bottom, Chanyeol was staring fixatedly through his spyglass.  "Should I get Luhan?" Jongin asked, and Chanyeol didn't respond.  "Is it a threat?" 

When Chanyeol lowered the spyglass, his mouth was set in a grim line.  "I don't think he'll be able to do much."

"What is it?" Yifan asked, taking the spyglass when it was proffered by Chanyeol.  It didn't take long before Yifan wore an expression to match his captain's.  Sehun was started to get frustrated, and the ship was nearing them all the time.

"Take the helm, Yifan.  Bring us 60 degrees to port, we're going to make for the nearest shore.  Jongin, rally the others."  He seemed as confused as Sehun, but did as he was told, and Yifanyifan began to gradually tilt the ship to their left, veering off their course to where land was looming nearest. 

"What's happening?" Sehun asked, and Chanyeol looked at him guiltily. 

"Someone wants you back," Chanyeol said, offering him the telescope now.  Sehun raised it to his face and peered through, and finally understood.  It was a Paraciellian airship headed directly for them.

"Maybe they don't know I'm here?" Sehun suggested, mouth dry. 

"Unlikely," Chanyeol responded, taking the spyglass back from him and holding it to his own eye again.  "They've corrected their course, they're headed in our direction."

Sehun wasn't ready to go back.  There was no Jongin on Paracielle, and he could only imagine his grandfathers' reaction if he tried to convince him to allow Jongin to live on the island.  "We can outrun them though, right?"  He had to hope.

Chanyeol didn't look optimistic.  "Those ships aren't very advanced, but they're small.  They'll be able to catch us.  But," he followed before Sehun lost all hope, "we have one big advantage.  If they don't know that the _Anteron_ uses solium, they won't want to risk blowing us up while you're on board.  They won't shoot at us, so they'll have to get up close and board us.  And if they get up close without killing us we can take them out of the sky nonlethally."

Sehun was becoming worried about where this was going.  _Responsibility_ , said in Jongin's voice, echoed in his head.  He couldn't keep running away if it meant things could get dangerous.  "Chanyeol.  I'm not going to let myself put everyone else in danger.  Just hand me over, and I'll make sure you go free."

"Do you want them to take you home?"  He waited a moment, and then took Sehun's silence as its own answer.  "The crew's all spoken about this Sehun.  We've considered something like this may happen and we all decided you aren't going anywhere you don't want to.  It was unanimous," Chanyeol said, and Sehun had never felt more grateful to a group of people in his life.

"And your tactic... It's completely safe for the other ship?"

Chanyeol bit his lip.  "In theory?"

"Have you ever actually tried it?"

Chanyeol used the arrival of the crew in deck as an excuse to avoid answering him.

"Alright everyone, it's happening; Paracielle wants their prince back, but we're not ready to give him back yet."  By now it was impossible to miss the distant ship, still headed directly for them.  "They must know it’s us, so Luhan won't be much help.  We're making for nearest land, Catalonia, we should be off of open sea in," he stopped to look at the rapidly approaching coastline, rocky cliffs topped by dark green forest.  "About ten minutes.  Is everyone feeling clear on the Icarus Contingency?"  In a less serious situation, Sehun would have snorted at the name.  No one said raised their voice, and Chanyeol was contented.  Alright everyone, Jongin you know what you need to do so get on it, and stay low until we're close.  We don't want them to see you until you're too late.  Everyone else is going to hide belowdeck just in case someone on their ship decides they want to take any pot-shots at us, and Sehun, sorry but you're going to have to stay on deck as bait.  Alright everyone?"  There were stray nods, and Jongin quickly hopped onto the rigging and was soon a good distance up to the top of the rigging.  Everyone else was setting to, but Sehun was still confused.

"Chanyeol, just, quick version, what's the Icarus Contingency?"

Chanyeol was harried, but he seemed to concede the importance of Sehun understanding what was going on.  He still said it as if he knew Sehun wouldn't like it.  "Well, they get alongside us, and then Jongin jumps onto their balloons, punctures them full of holes, and then jumps back to our rigging.  We start to climb while they sink slowly.  They land gently on the ground, we get away."  Chanyeol had been right.  Sehun didn't like this, and it must have been clear immediately on his face because Chanyeol was quickly following with "Jongin thinks he can do it.  You'll have to trust his abilities."  And before Sehun could get in another word, he was gone, shouting things to the others and preparing the ship to maintain its course before they all retreated belowdeck. 

The other ship was gaining on them increasingly; Sehun's bare eyes could make out figures moving on the deck.  They had started to pass over land now, and treetops glided some hundred feet underneath them.  Jongin was totally out of sight now, back up on the top side of his perch.  For the first time on the _Anteron_ since Massalia, Sehun felt alone.

The _Undaunted_ —he was certain that was the one it was, and hell if he was going to let it ruin his escape again— was gaining quickly on them, closing in.  It would only be a few minutes before it caught up completely.  And that was when Sehun saw him.  _Zitao._

Standing on the deck of the ship, without the cape but the rest of the Lionheart uniform unmistakeable.  Staring directly at him.  It was as if a hurricane had blown in and pulled him apart, and he was now in the process of trying to piece his mind back together in the right order.  Much as he knew he loved Zitao deep down, he was going to insist on bringing Sehun back to Paracielle, and in light of all that Sehun had learned he was as much prison guard as bodyguard.  Before Sehun could even begin to sort himself out however, the _Undaunted_ had closed on their flank, looking absolutely tiny in comparison but flying slightly higher, coming so close to the aft deck that Zitao was able to jump from the rail of the _Undaunted_ and land with a heavy thud.  Within seconds, he had jumped down the stairs and was pulling insistently on Sehun's arm while he stood there, still half in shock.

"Sehun, it's me," he realised Zitao was saying after a moment.  "I'm rescuing you, quick we need to leave."

"I can't," he said, much to Zitao's confusion.

"Yes you can," he replied, still pulling on Sehun's arm harder.  He was half dragging him to the starboard rail, where the _Undaunted_ had caught up to float alongside, waiting for them to make the jump back. 

"Zitao, no."  Sehun was trying to pull his arm free, but his Lionheart was too strong for him.  He always had been.  "I don't want to go home."

"You're being ridiculous, they abducted you," Zitao said, and halfway through he must have decided he didn't have the time to argue anymore.  He wrenched Sehun's arm, dragging him across the deck with him.  Sehun couldn't fight much, but he could buy time, digging his heels into the deck to make it as effortful as possible.  He glanced upwards just in time to see Jongin make the jump, bouncing against the balloon but grabbing onto the rope securing it to keep himself from falling, and once he got his grip he began to make narrow precise slices in the material.  Unfortunately, the sight had so shocked Sehun that he soon found himself being passed over the railing into the hands of two Corbenician sailors.  One of them, Sehun recognized even in the moment, was the sailor that had caught him and Zitao on their escape.  It already felt so long ago.

Zitao jumped back to the _Undaunted_ after him, and the soldiers had disappeared to some task.  "Grapples ready?" he shouted, and Sehun realised that Zitao had his own Icarus Contingency: five sailors on the deck held lengths of rope with large sharp hooks on the end, and they were swinging them over head.  "Can we get more altitude?" Zitao yelled back to the helmsman, and he only shook his head in response.  It seemed Jongin was doing his job well.  Zitao did not seem to yet be aware of what was happening.  "Throw," he instructed the sailors.  Two were not thrown high enough to make their mark: one clanged off the deck and the other cleared the width of the _Anteron_ entirely, dangling somewhere over the far side.

 The other three tore giant ragged gashes in the material.

"Stop," Sehun pleaded, grasping at Zitao's shoulder.  He was his friend, he was supposed to understand...

Zitao shook him off.  "We need to do something now, or they'll just take you again.  These people are dangerous," he growled, ordering the sailors to reel in their lines for the other.  Underneath them, the trees were gradually getting closer: Sehun was certain the compartmentalizing of air in the _Anteron_ was the only thing keeping it afloat, but he wasn't sure how much of this it could take.  Jongin was still making slight incisions, and Sehun wanted to yell for him to do his job quickly and get back to safety.

The sailors began to pull their lines back in, though the one who had thrown his clear over the other side found his had become snagged on the railing, and a hard yank, while in the air with no resistance, brought the two hulls grinding together.  Sehun looked up just in time to see Jongin get knocked loose from his grip, leaving him hanging from just from one hand clutched around the line.

"Jongin!" Sehun screamed before he could catch himself, and Zitao followed his eyes upwards.

"Get back, Sehun," Jongin was shouting, unconcerned with his own situation, and the courage in his voice was just infectious enough that Sehun found himself putting all of himself into running for the deck and hurling himself back to the _Anteron_ as quickly as he could, while Zitao still pieced together what was happening with the strange person on his balloon.  Sehun landed hard on the deck, bouncing off of the solid wood, but scrambling to his feet just in time to watch Jongin stabbing his knife into the _Undaunted_ ' balloon a few more times.  It had a much more immediate effect, the other ship was sinking quickly, and soon Sehun couldn't see the even the tops of the sailors heads over the side of the _Anteron_.  Jongin, still clutching the ropes on the _Undaunted_ , was quickly lowering to Sehun's level, waiting for the right moment to jump back.  He made the jump just as something metal clanked against the railing, but Sehun ignored it.  _Where was Jongin, had he made it?_   He had jumped, but too late to clear the railing... Sehun ran to the edge and peered over, terrified of what he'd find. 

The _Undaunted_ had already sunk quite a ways, sinking into the treetops below and no longer a threat.  But far more of a relief was the sight of Jongin, both arms hooked firmly into the rigging on the lower side of the hull.  He smiled weakly at Sehun, and his stomach was quickly put at ease.  It wasn't meant to last though, because he quickly noticed something else.

The metal clank on the railing had been one of the grapples, and hanging from the rope attached, swaying gently in the wind, was his Lionheart.


	6. An Interlude

Jongin was quick to haul himself back up onto the deck, and he hurried over to help Sehun pull Zitao up by the grapple rope, wincing all the while.  Sehun made a mental note to check if he was okay, but he set it aside until Zitao wasn’t in immediate danger.  The Lionheart was mute as they pulled him up and over, and once he was standing facing them, the three stood in mute silence for a moment, breathing heavily as their heartbeats struggled to slow to a normal pace.  Zitao’s eyes wouldn’t meet his; instead, they were flicking around madly, never staying in a single place.  _This is awkward_.  Sehun began to speak, but before he could even breath a syllable, Zitao was in motion.

With an open palm, he slammed his hand into Jongin’s chest, winding him, and a foot had swung out to hook behind Jongin’s calves, yanking it back towards himself and pulling the rigger’s legs with it.  Jongin was on the deck with Zitao’s knee on his throat before Sehun could even yell _stop_.  Once he did, thankfully, his guard froze, and Sehun knew he could crush Jongin’s throat in in an instant. 

“Don’t,” he ordered, voice wavering, and finally Zitao met his eyes.  To Jongin, Zitao’s face was probably a terrifying glare, all dark eyes and set jaw, but Sehun knew him well enough to know that things were over.  Zitao may not understand why, but thankfully he understood how serious Sehun was.  Zitao stood slowly, and Sehun noticed with relief that Jongin’s hand moved away from where it had been, clutching the pistol still in his holster. 

The question was forming on Zitao’s lips when the rest of the crew emerged from the cabin.  Jongdae, Kyungsoo, and Yifan all held the new rifles, trained on Zitao.  He backed away from Sehun and Jongin, but didn’t raise his hands when Kyungsoo coolly instructed him too.  Zitao would never surrender, Sehun knew, he’d just wait for an opportunity.  Which made it all the more important to win him over to Sehun’s side.  He should be on my side anyways, Sehun thought.  He had made it clear that he didn’t want to leave the _Anteron_ , and Zitao had disregarded it like it was nothing.  He was almost certainly operating on Sehun’s grandfathers’ orders, and that did not bode well for Sehun.  Kyungsoo seemed to give up on trying to get him to raise his hands.

“What are we going to do with him?” Baekhyun finally asked, addressing the concern they were all thinking.  Sehun helped pull Jongin to his feet, and the other boy leaned on his for support.  The look Zitao cast them was barely a flicker, but Sehun had caught it.  His friend was in there somewhere, but this Zitao… this one almost scared Sehun. 

Chanyeol glanced in his direction.  “Put him in the brig for now,” he said, and Sehun realized it was half a question directed at him.  He gave a nod as slight as he could manage, and to Zitao’s credit, he didn’t betray any surprise at Sehun’s ease among his kidnappers.  Minseok produced some rope and tied Zitao’s wrists together, even though Sehun knew he could tear free from those knots whenever he felt the desire, and the three with rifles escorted him below deck.  _Just go with them, Zitao_.

He would go and speak to his friend in a moment, but first he had to make sure Jongin was okay.  “Are you alright?” he asked, the moment Zitao had disappeared from sight.  Chanyeol rushed to Jongin’s other side to help, but he waved him away.  He stepped away from Sehun to prove his point, and as pleased as Sehun was to know he was okay, he mourned the loss of contact.

“I’m alright, it just hurts.”

Sehun felt terrible.  “I’m so sorry, he doesn’t understand—“

Jongin shook his head, but Sehun didn’t miss the wince.  “No, it’s my shoulder.  I wrenched it when the two ships collided.  It’ll be fine, I just need a moment.  Was that Zitao?”

Sehun nodded, mouth grim.  This wasn’t how Sehun had wanted his closest friend and… whatever Jongin was, to meet. 

“He’s quick,” Jongin said, laughing wheezily but without malice.  Grateful as Sehun was that he was understanding, he was a little worried about him.  Chanyeol seemed to agree with him. 

“You should lay down,” Chanyeol told him, an order disguised as a suggestion. 

Jongin glanced up at the balloon, with its three giant gashes, all longer than Sehun was tall.  “I need to get up there and fix the canvas, inspect the compartments for any damage.  If somethings wrong, we want to know before it becomes a problem.”

Chanyeol shook his head.  “We’ll head as far as we can inland, away from the downed ship— they crash-landed safely,” he added as an aside to Sehun.  “I watched out the back with the telescope.  No one looked hurt.”  Sehun felt shame for not having thought to ask that immediately, but Chanyeol was already moving on.  “Like I was saying, we’ll fly about an hour inland and then find somewhere to set down.  You get better first, before you even think about clambering around up there.  I’ll get Luhan and see if he can do anything to help.”  Sehun felt a flash of jealousy at the thought of Yixing’s hands all over Jongin’s bare shoulder, but he quickly brushed it aside.  Sehun’s petty insecurities shouldn’t matter when Jongin was in pain, and if Yixing could help then Sehun would be grateful for it. 

He helped Jongin into the cabin, even though he didn’t need the assistance, and as Sehun lowered him into one of the chairs, he was struck by the memory of the exact same situation occurring after Massalia, only with their roles reversed.  He made sure Jongin was okay, which the other boy reassured him with a good-natured irritation at all the fuss that was being made, and Sehun left to go speak to Zitao.

 

———

 

Coincidentally, Luhan was leaving the brig just as Sehun was about to enter.  He was tucking his deck of tarot cards back into his robes when he noticed Sehun.  “Oh, hello.”

“Hi,” Sehun responded, as normal as he could ever manage with Luhan.  “Were you speaking with Zitao?”

“Oh yes,” Luhan dipped his head.  “He drew Strength and the Six of Cups,” he added, as if that would have significance to Sehun.  _Of course he has strength, he’s my Lionheart_ , Sehun thought, but before he could ask another question Luhan was walking away, and he decided to save himself the headache.  Sehun pushed through the door, and once he found himself watching Zitao through the bars, he was again assaulted by a wave of déjà vu.  Zitao sat with legs crossed on the floor, eyes closed in meditation.  It had always been a strange concept to the others in Paracielle, but to the Huangs it was a vital tradition.  A warrior’s mind, they insisted, must be sharpened the same as his sword.  But once Sehun had closed the door behind him, his eyelids flickered open to fix his gaze on Sehun through the bars.

“Why didn’t you just come with us?” he asked, voice unmodulated.  This was a different Zitao than both the coldly determined one he had seen on the deck and the one he grown up with.  The former scared him and the latter comforted him, but this one just made him angry.  All the guilt at abandoning Zitao and the betrayal was churning in a mess of confusion inside of him, stirred up even worse than the dispassionate expressionless way his friend was observing him through the bars.

“Why didn’t _you_ just listen when I told you no?” Sehun spat back, and felt the emotions inside him only rise higher in his chest at Zitao’s lack of reaction.

“You didn’t know what you were saying.  Your grandfather ordered me to bring you back—“

And that was it.  The mention of Sehun’s grandfather had been the extra fuel needed to suddenly have everything inside him boiling over.  “But you couldn’t fucking listen to me instead?!” He was shouting now, but he didn’t care.  _React, fuck you_.  What he needed right now wasn’t Zitao the warrior, he needed Zitao the friend.  He kicked the bars just for the satisfaction, but as a bonus he was rewarded with the tiniest of reactions from Zitao, and he felt his mouth twist into an ugly smirk.  “Did you know, about all this?” He had to know.

“All of what?” Zitao asked, and for the first time he looked legitimately uncertain. 

“Everything!” Sehun gestured at their surroundings, as if it would convey his point.  “That Corbenice hates its kings?  That I’ve been lied to my entire life about everything I thought I knew?”   Zitao tries to interrupt but Sehun’s past answers anymore.  “That all of Paracielle is a relic of history while the world has been moving on without it?  But that’s right, it’s _tradition_ ,” he snapped.  It wasn’t fair to take a shot like that at Zitao’s heritage but he wanted to make the other angry, and that had done the trick. 

Zitao swallowed slowly, trying to remain composed, but Sehun knew he had hit the right button.  “I didn’t know, Sehun, until you grandfather released me to come rescue you,” he replied in a low voice.  Sehun had provoked him, and now he was coming back with what he knew would hurt him.  “Released, Sehun, because remember? He locked me up after we got caught.  Not just in my quarters either, in the dungeon.  He told me about how Paracielle was about seventy years behind and then shoved me out into it to find you, telling me not to bother coming back without you.  And then after a fortnight of trying to track you back down, I finally find you and try to rescue you, only to have you and your new friends resist and sink the fucking ship.  How do you think those sailors are going to get to Paracielle, huh?”  He had gotten increasingly agitated as he spoke, until he was standing directly face to face with Sehun, face almost touching the bars.  “So what was I supposed to do, Sehun?  Apologize for the inconvenience and turn around you?  Fuck you.” 

Sehun tried to speak; he didn’t even know what to say, but Zitao cut him off.  “We aren’t kids, Sehun; that ended when you left.  I can’t just do everything you want me to anymore, there are stakes now.”

“We were supposed to leave together anyways, you can join us now—”

“What, and play pirates for the rest of our lives?”  Zitao was looking at him like he was just stupid kid that wasn’t getting the point, and he fought to resist the urge to kick the bars again.  “That was before; this is now.  I have my orders.”

He said it so resolutely that Sehun felt much of his anger disappear, leaving in its place only helplessness.  _It had only been two weeks, what had happened to them?_   “You’re supposed to be my friend,” Sehun said finally, trying and failing to keep his voice strong.  It was an argument that was as weak as he felt. 

Zitao’s expression faltered, and for the first time Sehun saw the Zitao that he was trying so hard to find, but he disappeared as quickly as he had surfaced.  The Lionheart returned to his seat on the floor, and shut his eyes once more.  Gone from his face was any of the ire, and it was carefully schooled back into neutrality.  Sehun waited a moment, and he was about to give up on a retort when Zitao spoke for a final time.  “I’m your Lionheart first,” he said, voice even and still.  “Your friend second.”

Sehun left, making sure to slam the door as hard as he could, and went to go find Jongin.

 

———

 

They sailed for another four hours before Chanyeol decided they were far enough from the downed _Undaunted_ , and they lowered the _Anteron_ into an open clearing of dark brown forest floor, flanked on all sides by tall trees.  It would be difficult to land and take off quickly, but Chanyeol had weighed it against finding an easier but more vulnerable place, and decided on the safer option.  Once they set down and properly moored the ship, Baekhyun began fussing over the condition of the hull on the starboard side, while Kyungsoo, Yifan and Jongdae climbed the rigging to start on the job that a frustrated Jongin had been ordered not to do by Chanyeol.  Luhan and Sehun went to find firewood.

"Do you know where you're going?" He finally asked his companion for several minutes in silence.  Luhan had been walking straight steadily in one direction, but they had yet to find a single suitable sized log for the axe over Sehun's shoulder.  All these trees were young and alive still.

"I'm going the right way," Luhan responded in his typical cryptic fashion, never stopping for a moment.  Curious enough as to where he was headed, Sehun followed without further complaint.  The incline began to increase, until they were hiking up a bank.  A dry, empty streambed wound down one side, and the sediment of decaying needles that made up the forest floor gave way beneath his feet, requiring each step be careful in it placement.  _Wherever he's going, it better be good._

Triumphantly, he reached the top of the bank, only to realize where that one ended, another began. So they continued climbing, though thankfully this one wasn't as steep.  Finally they reached the very top of the hill, and Sehun understood why Luhan had lead them this way.

Ahead of them, lying in crumbled ruins, was a castle.

He hadn't truly noticed until now with his eyes adjusting gradually, but the sun had set, leaving the sight bathed in the luminous glow of a full moon.  "Come on," Luhan said, waving Sehun along after he had frozen at the sight.  Sitting there on the peak, it looked so lonely.  As they walked towards it, Luhan pointed to mountains on the horizon to their left.  "Northeast.  Those are the Pyrenees," he said, and Sehun appreciated being oriented.  A cool breeze was blowing from the south.

As they got closer, he could better make out the actual remnants of structures.  The castle was almost entirely gone, with only a few surfaces of worn stone and one wall left to defy the wind.  But slightly further down, there was another building, composed of the same stone but far more intact: a chapel, eerily glowing in the moonlight.

He followed Luhan closer towards the chapel, past a small graveyard of crooked headstones.  The glass from the windows, if there had ever even been any, was long gone, and the wooden door hung open on rusty hinges.

"Only the wind is home," Luhan whispered, more to himself than at Sehun, before carrying on through past the threshold.  Sehun was torn between his fear of entering the abandoned chapel and being left alone outside.  After a moment of hesitance, he decided to follow Luhan inside.  The inside was surprisingly warm, and Luhan had once more produced fire with his bare hand as he had done in the chamber in Carthage, bathing the room in a warm, flickering orange.  With his other hand, he dragged his fingers over the spines of books on a shelf at the front, as abandoned as the rest of the building.  " _Capillo Peligroso_ ," Luhan said, and it took Sehun a moment to realize it was directed at him.  "The Chapel Perilous.  What are you looking for?"

Sehun was puzzled, but then he was always lost when he was with Luhan.  "Well, I was just following you, although we were supposed to be finding firewood—"

Luhan glanced over his shoulder, and Sehun quickly gathered that that was not the correct answer.  Rather than waiting for Sehun to fail again, he turned away from the shelf and crossed to the altar, waving Sehun closer until they stood on either side of the surface.  

Sehun watched in amazement as Luhan set the flame he held in his hand down on the stone altar, after which it continued to burn without fuel.  Meanwhile, Luhan once more produced the deck of cards from his robes, and Sehun wished he would put them away; this entire situation was far too eerie for more of Luhan's mysticism.  "You love Jongin."

Sehun's mouth fell open.  Of all thigs, that was not what he had expected, and he hoped the orange light hid his flushed cheeks.  "I— I don't—" he stammered, but Luhan only tilted his head curiously.

"You're abashed over his gender?" Luhan inquired.  "Don't be.  Love is without rules."

Finally regaining his tongue, Sehun tried to save face.  "I don't think I love him."  _Yet_ , whispers the voice in his head.

Luhan's head is still tilted, and he is surveying him through squinted eyes.  "But you will.  You're already falling, Oh Sehun, you just have yet to hit the surface.  Once you do, I think we are both certain you will sink."

Luhan's playful mysteriousness was usually amusing, but this was striking too close after an exhausting day, and Sehun was in no mood. "Make your point, or else let's get back to the ship."  There wouldn't likely be any firewood for tonight.

For the second time since leaving Paracielle, Luhan held out the deck to Sehun.  "Pick two," he instructed, and Sehun didn't bother to argue. Before he could look at them, Luhan took both and laid them face-up on opposite sides of the altar.  On the left, Sehun noticed with an odd feeling in his stomach, was one titled "The Lovers;" a naked man and women stood together underneath an angelic figure.  To his other side was "The Emperor," a wearied and angry man, seated on a throne, wearing a crown and clutching a sceptre.

"You must choose," Luhan murmured, looking expectantly at him.  Sehun began to move his finger to his choice, but Luhan stopped him with a shake of the head.  "Not for me.  You must choose for yourself.  The left or the right; you must choose one but not both."   _It was an easy answer, right?_

Sehun turned away from the altar.  "We should get back."  Luhan stared at him unreadably for a moment, before collecting the two cards and returning them to the deck.  

"Yes, I suppose so."  He followed Sehun out of the chapel, bringing two of the books with him.  They made the cautious walk back down the two banks, and just as they reached the bottom, it began pouring rain harder than Sehun had even known was possible.

They returned to find the rest of the crew huddled in the cabin, hiding from the rain.  Sehun was completely drenched, noting with some irritation that somehow Luhan and his thick robes remained bone dry, without a drop of water wetting his hair.  Accepting begrudgingly that whatever magic he had worked must have been impossible to extend to Sehun, he graciously accepted Jongin's offer of dry clothes, also excited a little by the prospect of wearing Jongin's clothes.

Shivering, he followed them down to their sleeping quarters, and Jongin began rummaging through, pulling out a pair of trousers and a shirt that were not too different than the ones he wore now.  Sehun took them from him gratefully and set them aside as he began to unbutton his wet shirt, clinging uncomfortably to his stomach.  He managed to peel it off, feeling a little self-conscious but enjoying the way Jongin was fighting to not look.  Next came the trousers, and Sehun was grateful that this time Jongin truly did avert his eyes, as Sehun wasn't sure he was quite at that level of confidence yet.

Once he was again fully clothed, he hung the wet clothing from whatever spots he could fine, and let Jongin towel his hair dry with a blanket, after which he threw the lightly damp article back to where he had found it, in Baekhyun's hammock.  Sehun giggled a little at this, and Jongin pulled him into his arms for an embrace.

"Are you cold?" He asked, feeling Sehun still shivering against him despite being free of the wet clothes.

"No," Sehun says straight-faced, and Jongin laughs at him.  

"Come on," he says, grabbing the blanket from Sehun's hammock and climbing into his own.  He waved for Sehun to join him, and he did, climbing in with his back facing the other boy.  The fit was tight, but it only forced him closer to Jongin, and once he laid both blankets over top of them, Sehun felt the warmth that was already in his chest spread to the rest of his body, especially after Jongin wrapped his arms around him and held Sehun’s cold digits in his comparatively much warmer hands.  Part of him was concerned about the other crew members coming to sleep and finding them here, but Jongin didn't seem concerned, so for once Sehun wasn't going to panic.  Shifting until he was comfortable, he shut his eyes and let himself sink deep into Jongin's presence.

 

◊ ◊ ◊ ◊ ◊ ◊ ◊ ◊ ◊ ◊ ◊ ◊ ◊ ◊ ◊ ◊ ◊ ◊ ◊ ◊ ◊ ◊ ◊ ◊ ◊ ◊ ◊

 

Sehun spent the next two days either being ordered around by Baekhyun while helping to fix the hull, or wandering around the surrounding forest with Jongin.  The trees on Paracielle were nothing like these, reaching up almost as high as or higher than the rigging on the _Anteron_ , and they had their own music, with the wind through the branches and all the creatures they were home to.  They gathered firewood, as he and Luhan had neglected to do on the first night, or other times they just wandered aimlessly, with Jongin there to help him not think about Zitao still in the brig.

By the morning of the third day, Kyungsoo, Yifan, and Jongdae had nearly finished the repairs on the balloon; though none of the solium cores had been seriously damaged, they had to be carefully inspected and reinforced for any potential ruptures, and then the outer balloon had to be patched and repressurized.  Jongin had been very vocal about the fact that, had he been allowed to help them,  they would have been done on the second day, but Chanyeol had continued to ignore him after having caught him wincing just lifting a spoon to his mouth at mealtimes.

On this morning’s forest stroll with Jongin, however, Sehun was finding him to be suspiciously silent.  Deciding to wait for whatever it was on Jongin’s mind to surface on its own, Sehun passed the time by asking him about the mushrooms growing on the forest floor, and whether they were edible.

“No.  Do not eat those you will die.”  _Mystery solved_.  Whatever had been on Jongin’s mind was rising in his throat now, so Sehun let him speak.  “So… I know it may not be what you want to hear, but Chanyeol wanted me to speak to you about Zitao.”

“He’s too busy to speak to me himself?” Sehun teased, albeit with a hint of seriousness.

Jongin was sheepish.  “He, uh, he thought you might prefer to talk to me about it.”  He laughed embarrassedly, just a little, and Sehun found himself cursing Chanyeol.  It had only been a couple days and he was already having Jongin used against him.  Sehun wasn’t even truly sure how much the rest of the crew, Luhan aside, even knew.  They hadn’t said anything about the night that he had shared Jongin’s hammock, but his suspicions that they knew at least something were stirred after walking in on Minseok and Baekhyun in the galley; they had immediately ceased discussing whatever it was they had been talking about when Sehun came in, fixing him with exaggeratedly encouraging smiles until he left and they could resume their conversation.  Sehun imagined they probably at least had an inkling and were pretending as if they did not know for his own benefit, which he appreciated in his own way.  It was certainly a much warmer atmosphere of intentional blindness than he had enjoyed on Paracielle.  “He needs to know what we’re doing with him.  Do we set him free when we liftoff again? Barcelona is near enough to reach on foot, if we orient him.  Or do we continue holding him?”

And that was it.  The dilemma Sehun had been trying not to think about since setting down.  Ideally, Zitao would have wanted to join Sehun on the _Anteron_.  He was more than competent, and his variety of skills would definitely have made him a worthy addition to the crew.  The _Anteron_ was also much larger than the _Lady Luck_ had been anyways, and the crew had spoken vaguely a few times about recruiting a few more to their ranks, yet Zitao seemed obstinate in his mission to bring Sehun back to his grandfather.  But he was still Sehun’s friend too, he couldn’t bring himself to leave him here or anywhere, especially if what he had said was true about being exiled.  Tired of having these same arguments repeat over and over in his head, he explained his thoughts to Jongin.  Earlier he had told him about their disastrous reunion, but it was the first time he had opened up about his thoughts since, and it felt surprisingly relieving.

After looking off thoughtfully for a moment, Jongin turned his gaze back to him.  “I think you should probably just try to speak to him again, only calmer this time.  Don’t go in angry, find out why he wants what.”  It was good enough advice, but if Sehun was being honest it something he had considered, but whenever he did he was uncertain of whether or not he would be able to remain calm.  “Really though,” Jongin continued, “the truth is, he’s your bodyguard; you’re the reason he’s here.  The least you can do is figure out why.”  And there it was.

Jongin hadn’t said anything to him about it since Massalia —he never would, not anymore— but ever since asking why Jongin was so determined to correct his beliefs, the word had weighed on his mind.  _Responsibility_.  That was what being a leader was supposed to be about.  Even if he wasn’t prince of Corbenice, he was still Zitao’s prince as far as the Lionheart was concerned.  He couldn’t ignore loyalty like that, no matter how misdirected.

“Yeah,” Sehun breathed, resigned.  “You’re right, as always.”  Jongin smiled at the compliment.  You’re gonna half to knock that off, it’s getting to be annoying.”  He hadn’t even realised until now, but they had walked almost all the way back to the _Anteron_ during their conversation, and the hull was visible between the tree trunks.  _No time like the present_ , Sehun figured.  “Give me a kiss for good luck first?”

 

———

 

In spite of his mission, Sehun descended belowdeck with a buoyant mood.  One kiss for good luck had turned into several, each longer and deeper until the last until he felt invincible.  Speaking to Zitao would no doubt be sobering, but he was already in a much better frame of mind than he had been the last time.  On a whim, he decided to stop by the galley before going all the way down to the brig.   Jongin had brought him fruit in the brig, and he remembered how appreciated the gesture had been; it might be the right way to lure out the playful, indulgent Zitao that had to still be somewhere in the armour.        

He found Minseok busying away at preparing lunch, hunched over his cutting board chopping vegetables for what Sehun imagined would end up being soup.

“You got some fresh vegetables in Tunis, right Minseok?”

The cook did not look up from his work, squinting at the cucumber and making clean, precise slices.  “Figs and a couple pomegranates.”

That would work.  “Can I take one?”

“You can have some figs,” Minseok answered disinterestedly, still not looking up by jerking his head slightly in the direction of a woven basket behind him, sitting on a barrel and nearly overflowing with figs.

“Can I have a pomegranate too?” Sehun asked, staring at the basket directly next to it, cradling a handful of the deliciously enticing fruit.  He tried on his most ingratiating princely smile.

“You can have some figs.”

Resigned, Sehun passed him to stand before the fig basket.  But as he prepared to grab a handful, he realised the advantage of his position.  He glanced over his shoulder to make sure Minseok was still focussed keenly on his work, and swiped one of the prized fruits.  Dropping it into his pocket and producing an obvious bulge, he grabbed a handful of the figs just for the sake of it and then exited as nonchalantly as he could, trying to shield the lump in his pocket as best he could with the hand that was not filled with figs.  Thankfully, it seems Minseok’s inattentiveness had remained consistent; he was in the clear.

He carried on to the lowest lever, where the brig was at the aft-most end.  He nibbled at the figs as he went, finding himself hungrier than he had realised, and by the time he stood outside the door to the brig, his hand was empty.  Taking a deep breath, he stepped through the door.

Immediately, he knew things had improved.  Zitao was sitting on the straw bed, holding a book open on his chest. When he saw Sehun, he looked… not quite happy, exactly, but relieved.  Sehun would take it; these expressions at least was familiar to him.  This was not Lionheart Zitao anymore, this was his friend.  Had it truly just been a matter of waiting until the former subsided? It seemed too easy.

“Hi,” Sehun said, unavoidably awkward.

“Hey,” Zitao replied.  “The captain seems alright, he brought me something to pass the time.”  He held up the book, and Sehun saw the cover; it was another of Chanyeol’s dime novels, some disposable tale of a hero and his fantastic adventures, the latest episode in the ongoing saga.  “They’re trying to find Atlantis,” he said, and Sehun could see the ghost of the mischievous smile he had grown up with.  “He lent it to me in exchange for telling him how we found you.  I’m going to tell you too, because I’m pretty proud.”

“We knew what the ship looked like, one of the guards saw it in the sky the night of your disappearance, and after they realized you were gone they put two and two together.  When I was charged with finding you, I went to check Massalia first; asked around for a double-balloon ship; thankfully there aren’t many.  And then do you know what I did?”  Sehun shook his head.  “They have this marvellous new thing now, called a telegraph, have you heard this?  You can send messages to faraway places instantly, its magic has returned.  Anyways, I spent the next week and most of the money your grandfather had given me for expenses telegraphing every airdock in the Mediterranean, checking multiple times with some of them, until finally one in Tunis said they had seen that very ship headed due north-northwest, and we set out to intercept.”  Smug had never been Sehun’s favourite look on Zitao, but right now he’d still take it over angry.  Sehun said nothing in response, and a hesitant silence fell between them.

Sehun could do this, he just had to say it.  _Here goes_.  “Look, Zitao, I’m sorry.”  The other boy quirked his eyebrow, as if the last thing he had expected was an apology.  Was this truly the first time he had apologized to Zitao for something?  While this situation was by far certainly his worse offense, it can’t have been the first time he had wronged Zitao in some trivial way or another.  Had he never been accountable for his actions?  “I’m sorry for my grandfather, I’m sorry for leaving.  I’m sorry for doubting you.”  Saying it felt like cutting himself open and letting all his guilt pour out onto the floor until both he and Zitao stood ankle-deep in his mistakes, but at the same time it felt freeing.  He was sorry for another eight dozen things as well, but he hoped those three big ones would cover it. 

Zitao set the book aside and stepped over to sit once more on the floor as he had last time.  Sehun worried for a moment he would close his eyes again, but they remained open and fixed on him.

“Thank you, Sehun.” The longer he spoke to Zitao, the better he was at detecting the edge lurking beneath everything the other boy did, but it was still an improvement from their previous attempt to talk.  It wasn’t malicious anyways, just defensive.  “I think I share at least a bit of the blame, too.  I didn’t explain myself.  If I had known you were safe —you are safe with these people, right?— I might have had second thoughts before.  I need you to understand, I’m not trying to make things hard for you.  Before, I was willing to give anything to help you leave Paracielle, because it’s what you wanted.  But after you were taken, I learned some things and… everything makes more sense now.  About why things on Paracielle were the way they were for you.”

This was progress; Zitao was must understand how Sehun felt, at least a little.  “I know, I found out how much we’ve missed out on and—”  Zitao was shaking his head.  “No? No what?”

Zitao looked the most on edge he had been since Sehun had entered the brig.  “I don’t think we’re talking about the same thing.  There’s something more, that your father told me, after your grandfather gave me my orders.”

Even know, it seemed, he couldn’t escape all of Paracielle’s secrets.  “What?” Sehun asked.  “What did he tell you?" 

“Turns out the Royal Family wasn’t always permanently stuck with their heads in the clouds.  We had always been told they didn’t visit the surface, but they did, right up until even after you were born.  Turns out this isn’t your first time on the surface.”

“Your mother… according to your father, she was very taken by the beauty of the Palace, but she always found it so lonely.  So she went home, a couple times a year.  She would fly to Madrid to see her family for a week or two.  And once you were born, she began to take you with her.  According to your father, you made the trip a few times.  He never went, but whenever you and your mother travelled he would send his Lionheart, my uncle, with you for protection.  Your father did never tell you much about where your mother came from, did he?”

Sehun shook his head.  He’d never known much at all about her; it’d been impossible to broach with his father, and Junmyeon was sparing at best when it came to divulging such information.

“She was from a middle-level noble house, not much money but an old name.  But word spread when she returned; whether or not she had a kingdom, she was still a queen and beautiful besides.  But it was a dangerous time and place for monarchs, and on one trip, when you were three, someone decided she was the perfect medium for their message.  You had just set down in the city, and you, your mother, and Uncle were taking a carriage the short distance to her family home when an assassin opened fire on the three of you.  Your mother apparently died quickly, and Uncle was seriously wounded.  He had just enough life left to pick you up and run with you back to the _Majestic_.  The sailors brought you both home, and Uncle died on the way.  Your father… he cried when he told me this.  I never thought I’d see it.  And that had been when he decided he could never let you take the risk of leaving the safety of Paracielle again.”  Zitao was no longer looking at him, face fixed on his feet.  “I’m sorry, Sehun.  I know that’s a lot to take in, but you understand why it’s not safe here for you, even if these people are alright—“

Everything Zitao was saying sounded far away.  Sehun needed to leave, now.  He couldn’t be here anymore.  Deaf to whatever Zitao was saying, he turned and left.  Left the brig and climbed the stairs back up to the deck, where Jongin stood staring directly up, shouting suggestions at the crew working above.  From the sounds of things, they were nearly finished, but Sehun could not have cared less.

“Come with me,” he said, grabbing Jongin by the elbow.  “Please.”

Jongin looked at him with confusion, but thankfully didn’t ask.  “Yeah, sure.”  Not letting go of his arm but actually holding on tighter, he let the other boy guide him over where the rope ladder had been dropped from the railing to allow them easier climbing up and down to the forest floor.  Sehun went first, and Jongin was not far behind, and once the other boy had set foot on solid ground, he was off.

Jongin followed him wordlessly, even as Sehun walked so quickly that he began to pant, headed in no particular direction other than away.  He finally slowed to the stop when they came across another clearing, though this one was completely different from the one currently harbouring the _Anteron_.  It was less than a quarter the size, and instead of the brown soil it was soft, mint-green grass below their feet, and beyond that a small pond.  Feeling suddenly as if he had walked far enough, Sehun collapsed into the grass, and Jongin was not far behind.

It was peaceful, here, a pleasant contrast to the gongs going off in Sehun’s head.  Ducks in the pond were paddling quietly in the water, and the grass was soft and comfortable rather than ticklish or scratchy.  Sehun curled in tight to Jongin, laying his head on his chest to listen to the still quick _lub-dub_ of his heart.  There was something hard pressing into his thigh, and at first he thought he had fallen on a rock but then he realized the true source.  _The pomegranate_.  He had completely forgotten to offer it to Zitao.

Deciding there was not much sense holding onto it any longer, he removed it from his pocket and bit a chunk out of the bitter outside, to give his fingers purchase.  From there, he was able to split it open, revealing the bounty of tangy red seeds inside.  Jongin, he noted gratefully, seemed to still be pursuing a policy of waiting for Sehun to decide when he wanted to talk about what was bothering him.  In lieu of an explanation, he offered Jongin the other half of the fruit, and they sat nibbling in silence.

Gradually, the mood improved, and Sehun found himself distracted as Jongin took it upon himself to try and throw the seeds up and catch them in his mouth while still lying down, a sight that soon had Sehun laughing along in spite of himself and trying to toss some of his own into Jongin’s mouth.  They laughed until it hurt, and then some more, but even once they had stopped, Sehun found himself unable to stop staring at Jongin’s lips.  Stained red from the juice and turned upwards, they were irresistible.

Giving into temptation, Sehun kissed him.  Hard, as if he was hoping to pull some of Jongin’s ease and gentleness out so he could swallow it down into himself.  Now, he was noticing, the grass was becoming ticklish, an irritant unbearably teasing his body.  Trying to minimize contact with it, he rolled atop Jongin and continued, relishing the taste of the fruit so much more than he had ten minutes before.  _I love pomegranate._

Jongin froze underneath him, eyes wide, and Sehun pulled back.  “What’s wrong?”

“You… what did you just say?”  Jongin was still unmoving.

“I love pomegranate,” Sehun answered, placing small kisses over the corner of his lips, hoping the intermission would end quickly.  Jongin swallowed thickly, and Sehun watched his Adam’s apple bob.

“That’s… no.  You said something different.”

Sehun righted himself, only distantly aware he was straddling Jongin’s hips.  “I said—” _Wait… which one had he said out loud?_

“You said,” Jongin murmured, only now starting to stir from his near paralysis a moment ago. “You said _I love you_.”  It was then Sehun’s turn to become a statue.  “It’s okay though,” Jongin continued, pausing to raise a warm calloused hand to cup Sehun’s jaw.  “I love you too.”  Lips locked once more, and their hands grew in their courage.  And just when Sehun had thought he had fallen as far as he could, the bottom dropped out once more, and again he was plummeting down, down, down. 

 

———

 

So long as he remained in this clearing, Sehun was certain everything would be perfect.  The sun was beginning to disappear over the treetops, but they were close; mid-afternoon, Sehun would guess.

He and Jongin lay intertwined, clothing only half on: partially because it was all the effort they could manage, and partially because they had already twice gotten dressed only to pull it all off a moment later.  His body felt achy and languid, but in a comfortable way, as if he were dreaming.

He better not be dreaming.

Jongin stirred beside him, he had been in and out of a light sleep, and once Sehun knew he was awake once again, he said “I love you.”  Just saying it fired a tingle through his entire body, and that could not even compare to how he felt when Jongin looked at him dopily through half-hooded eyes and mumbled _I love you too_.

It was getting late though, and they would have to return soon.  The initial shock of what Zitao had told him had worn off, and he would have to go and pick up those pieces.  But, he reasoned, they could afford a few moments more.

He closed his eyes and listened to the symphony of the meadow: Jongin’s steady breathing and the little noises he made when he shifted; the wind between the branches; the ducks had left, but a cricket was now audible.  It was a medley that so powerfully fit this place that he wished he could write it down, turn it into notes and have it played before the world so they understood how beautiful this scene was—

But there was something else now.  He hadn’t noticed it before, but there was a distant whirring, growing however gradual.  He didn’t like it, it was an intrusion in his sanctuary, and yet it didn’t stop; it grew and grew until it was a noise as loud as any of the others.  Jongin awoke once more with a start, sitting up with his head tilted to the sky while his eyes scanned around, as if the sound were familiar, and he was trying to place it.

“What is it,” Sehun asked, but Jongin was already climbing to his feet.

“We need to get back to the ship, now.”  He scrambled to grab the few articles left lying about, and offered his hand to Sehun, pulling him to the feet.

Sehun had never seen him like this.  “What is it?” he repeated.

“The Prucians, they’re here, let’s go,” and this time it was Jongin pulling Sehun along by the wrist.  As they reached the treeline on the clearing, Sehun allowed himself to cast a glance back over his shoulder, where he could now place the origin of the whirring.  From this new angle, he was able to see over the trees, and what he saw crushed the air from his lungs.

It must have been an airship, because it sat suspended in the sky, drifting deceptively fast on the thrust supplied by its propellers, the source of the whirring.  But unlike every airship Sehun had ever seen, there were no balloons large enough to lift it; there seemed to be four small-sized ones attached at the side, but they couldn’t possibly be enough to keep it afloat.  He could only surmise that the rest of the lifting gas had to have been held within the hull itself.  It was silhouetted against the sunlight, so picking out detail was difficult, but even its very shape was unique; cigar-shaped, long and round with ends that were narrower than the middle.  At the front must have been the observation deck, an enormous bow-facing glass dome, like a tremendous pupil-less eye.  But the worst part, by far, was that even at this distance Sehun could tell it was over ten times the length of the _Anteron_.

He hadn’t even realized he had frozen until Jongin began pulling insistently again on his arm. “It’s a Prucian warship, and it’s going to pass right over where the _Anteron_ is.  C’mon.”  Sehun gave into the pull and followed Jongin in a dead sprint back the way they had come, the tiredness in his body long forgotten.


	7. A Really Dumb Idea

By the time they made it back to the _Anteron_ , Sehun was truly out of breath.  Jongin at least had been able to retain a little more, and he used it to scramble up the rigging to the deck of the ship while shouting for everyone's attention.

By the time Sehun pulled himself up, everyone was already running up and down the ship, securing various things in preparation.  For what, Sehun didn't know.  His confusion must have been plain on his face, because Chanyeol shouted to him from across the deck to tell him to stick with Jongin, as if he would do anything else. 

Sehun's breath had finally returned now, enough to ask Jongin what was happening as he followed him below deck. 

"It's a Prucian battleship.  Top of the line; it's this model that replaced Britain as the kings of the sky.  They had one moored in Kamerun when we got caught, and trust me when I say they're even bigger than you can imagine when you're down here.  It's not like normal airships; the airbags and the bridge, the crew quarters, the galley, all of those things, they're all inside the hull."

"What will we do?  Can we hide?"  Sehun followed him into the armory, where Jongdae and Minseok were both speedily loading the _Anteron_ 's new collection of rifles. 

Jongin shook his head.  "They're still headed to pass over us.  They'll see the _Anteron_ , there’s no time to hide, and unless we're incredibly lucky, they'll think there’s something suspicious about a Prucian airship parked in the middle of the Catalonian forest, and they're no doubt keeping an eye out for us anyways."

"So we run?"  _Why was no one preparing for liftoff then?_

This time, it was Jongdae that answered.  "You see the lower part of the ship?"

“With the cannons?”

Jongdae laughed, but there wasn’t much humour in it.  “They’re kind of like cannons I suppose, only five times the size, and they fire rounds that are _ten_ times the size and explode on impact.  If we try to run, those will tear us right out of the sky.  But they only work and longer ranges; as long as we’re below them we’re safe from those guns, and I also have a feeling they’d be more inclined to try to take the _Anteron_ back in one peace if we’re not using it to run away.  No, they’ll be using those smaller balloons on the side, do you see?  They’ll use those to send infantry down while the ship waits in case we do try to take off.

So it was fight then, not flight.  "Which is why we need the rifles."  Jongin frowned apologetically, handing him two to carry.

"They'll kill us if they catch us."

Jongdae and Minseok finished loading the last of the rifles, and the four of them left with enough guns for everyone and much ammunition as they felt they could reasonably carry in a combat situation.  Meanwhile, however, the sensation in Sehun's gut only grew stormier.  If it came down to a fight, would he be able to kill someone?  The thought was abhorrent, but could Sehun watch Jongin be killed and do nothing?  He couldn't say he could; he couldn't say he wouldn't act to save any of the crew members if it came down to such a situation.  _Or Zitao_.  He'd still be in the brig.

"We need to let Zitao out, we can't leave him locked up while we fight."  Could he trust Zitao not to try and abscond with him in the battle?  _Hopefully_. 

Jongin, to his credit, understood immediately.  "You take these," he said, passing Sehun his own share of the load to carry up, "I'll go get him."  Sehun would have objected, but he understood.  He felt confidant enough trusting Zitao to help them make it through the coming battle, but if he was freed and alone with Sehun, he had little faith his Lionheart would not try to drag him as far away from the combat as possible.  Jongin darted off, as Jongdae and Minseok had finished loading up on their own rifles and ammunition. 

Sehun followed them upstairs, struggling to keep the guns from slipping out of his arms.  Above deck, the rest of the crew had assembled and all were staring skyward.  The ship was almost overhead now, filling up the sky.  Not that it was closer, Sehun could pick out the weaponry it was armed with: a grid of catwalks that hung from the underside of the hull, connecting the six enormous guns that sat on much sturdier suspended platforms, which looked to be designed to allow for the guns to rotate and angle as needed.  There also seemed to be four smaller balloons, two attached to each side of the main hull that looked more like the old-fashioned ones, with a single round balloon and baskets hanging underneath.  Thankfully, however, it seemed Jongin was correct and there appeared to be nothing capable of firing downwards, but the artillery still shot down any remaining hope in trying to fly away.  Because no one else was asking it, Sehun inquired: “What’s the plan?”

Chanyeol looked as grim as the rest of them.  “Abandon ship.  Temporarily at least, the _Anteron_ ’s hull is too lightweight to serve as good cover, and we’ve just fixed the balloons, we don’t want any more punctures.  Luhan tells me you two found an abandoned structure on the first night.  If it’s made of stone and on the high ground, then it’s probably our best bet.  If you think Zitao can be trusted not to try anything, he should come with us.”

Sehun hadn’t even thought about it before then, but he realised should have secured the captain’s permission before freeing his captive.  “Jongin is uh, Jongin’s releasing him, they’ll be up in a moment,” he answered, unable to quite meet Chanyeol’s eyes.

“Good.  Once everyone’s set we should get going, they’ll definitely have seen us down here and we can count on them sending troops at any moment.”  The rest of the crew was set in their steely resolve; Minseok had a couple of his kitchen knives sheathed in his belt; Kyungsoo was cradling an enormous double-barrelled shotgun that was nearly longer than he was tall; even Luhan had forgone his typically distant glazed look in favour of a concentrated frown.  Sehun kept forgetting this was their second encounter with the Prucian Navy, and that they knew firsthand how badly things could go.  And if Massalia was anything to go by, they couldn’t even hope for imprisonment this time around. 

Zitao emerged first from belowdeck, followed closely by Jongin who, Sehun noticed, had his pistol drawn, though thankfully he had not felt the need to hold it on Zitao.  Everyone watched the Lionheart to see what he would do, but he ignored them and merely took his place at Sehun’s side, slightly behind him, already seamlessly transitioned back into guard mode.  Chanyeol assessed him.  “Do you know what’s happening?”

“They’ll kill him if they catch him?”  Even without turning his head, Sehun could imagine the sideways glance Zitao had just given him, and Jongin stepped into an equally protective stance on Sehun’s other side.

“Maybe.  They’ll definitely not let him go though, and you neither.  They’ll kill us for certain, though.”

“I don’t care about you,” Zitao answered, not maliciously.  “But so long as you’re fighting for Sehun, I think we’re on the same side.”  Apparently that was enough for Chanyeol, and he turned back to the sky.  He kept forgetting they the two had already spoken, probably a few times since Zitao’s capture.  Despite Zitao’s mistrust, they seemed to have established an understanding at least.  Sehun wasn’t sure what the plan would be for Zitao if they survived, but it seemed distant enough of a concern that it could be put off for now. 

“They must have seen us, they’ve slowed down.  We should go now; Luhan, lead the way.”  He was right, the ship had slowed down substantially in its drift overhead.  Anxious, everyone took a rifle with the exception of Luhan for whatever reason, and Zitao for very obvious reasons, however displeased with it he looked.  Still doing their part though, both helped to take the ammunition down to the ground.  They headed in the direction he and Luhan had found the ruins before, not quite running in order to conserve energy but keeping a pace that made talking too much difficult.  This, Sehun was a little grateful for, because he wasn’t sure what he would say to Zitao otherwise.  Him and Jongin both dogged his every step, seemingly locked into a competition as to who could jog closer to him without getting underfoot, something they were both still failing miserably at.  It would be cute if they weren’t staring death in the face.

As they reached the foot of the bank, Jongin finally spoke for the first time since he had gone to free Zitao.  “Sehun, me and Zitao spoke and we both think—”

“We both think you should avoid fighting.  Find a good piece of cover and stay behind it, it’s what I’ll be doing,” Zitao interrupted, sounding especially bitter about that last part. 

Five minutes, and they were already teaming up on him.  He should have known it wouldn’t take long.  “I’m going to do my part.”  He wasn’t happy about it, he wasn’t sure how much he’d even be able to help, or whether he’d even be able to pull the trigger.  But he wasn’t going to hide in the chapel while his friends risked their lives. 

Jongin was unhappy, if unsurprised.  “Look, I’m not going to take away your weapon and force you to hide but, Sehun, please, stay down and only fire if you absolutely have to.  I’ll try to stay with you, Zitao will too, so just be safe.”  He was panting now, after talking so much while trying to clamber up the hill, but Sehun knew his pained expression had nothing to do with that. 

“I’ll be safe.  You be safe too though,” Sehun fired back, before leaning over to plant a quick kiss on Jongin’s cheek.  Even in a situation like this, it still exhilarated him.  Zitao pretended not to notice, which Sehun understood.  Seeing him kissing boy pirates would likely take some getting used to.

The moment they had reached the top of the hill and the crumbling walls were in sight, Kyungsoo was barking orders.  Sehun glanced back in the direction of the battleship, finally visible again now that they had emerged from the trees, and saw that two of the smaller balloons had detached and were already nearing the surface.  “Two balloons, that’s about twenty, twenty-four men total.  Probably a few will stay with the _Anteron_ once they realised we’re not there, so we’re looking at around twenty soldiers trying to kill us.  Twenty soldiers.  Someone up there’s underestimating us,” Kyungsoo was almost bellowing, and Sehun realised he was trying to rouse their spirits.  “We’ve faced worth before, and if we survive this wave, we win.  They can’t stay up there forever, they’ll only have two landers left, and if they try to land we’ll be able to take off.  Jongin, you’ve got Sehun and Zitao?  I want you three in reserve, behind this wall.”  He jabbed his arm in the direction of one of the thickest surviving walls, several feet thick with the remnants of a second story wall complete with what had once been a window atop it.  “Jongdae, you’re the best shot, you’re gonna be up top at that window; Chanyeol, Minseok, Yifan, find spots with sufficient cover on the north side, I’ll be joining you,” he continued, pointing at the low remnants of foundation that still remained on the side of the ruins nearest the side of the hill they had just climbed up.  “Yixing, Baekhyun: you’ll be on our four and eight o’clock, don’t let them flank us.  Luhan will keep everyone supplied on ammo, you all know how to let him know when you need more.  Remember to stay in cover, and don’t waste shots, we don’t know how long we’ll be up here.  If we absolutely have to break formation, stay the hell away from the chapel, it’ll only trap you.  And if everyone’s good, I suggest you all get settled, because it won’t take them long to find our tracks.”

And with that, everyone dispersed to their positions.  The Prucian balloons were out of sight now, landed somewhere below the treeline, and they could only wait now.  Those stationed nearest to the bank were sunk low to the ground, sitting with their backs against the low walls they were depending on for cover.  Jongdae had clambered up to his position, and behind the thick wall Sehun was sandwiched between Zitao in the corner and Jongin nearest the end of the wall, allowing him to lean over and fire when the time came.  Sehun felt a little useless clutching his rifle, but was grateful for something to occupy his hands; they were already trembling as is.

For the longest time, everyone was dead silent.  The only sounds to be heard were the occasional shift for comfort, or else the wind rustling through the trees.  After what felt like an age, Jongdae began to hum, soft and quiet, audible to Sehun only because he was directly below.  The tune wasn’t recognisable to Sehun, but it was beautiful.  Slow and deep, though he couldn’t quite tell whether it was supposed to be sad or comforting. It sounded like he was holding two loose bullets, clicking them together quietly along to his song.  It was calming really, _clack-clack, clack-clack_ … the slow looping of it helped Sehun to calm down, breathe deeper, slow his heartbeat to the gentle rhythm of Jongdae’s song.  _Clack-clack, clack-clack, clack- tink, tink… tink_.  He had dropped one of the bullets; Sehun knew it without having to see. 

“Dammit,” Jongdae breathed from up above as he bent to retrieve it, but the last syllable was lost as a gunshot exploded somewhere else.  It was such a startling sound that it instantly kicked his heart back into overdrive, and for a brief instant it felt as if there were no other sounds to be heart but his racing heartbeat.  And then the second gunshot came, this time from their side, and it shocked him back to reality just in time to realize something was falling on him.  Whatever it was, it was heavy enough to knock him to the ground.  As Zitao helped him pull himself free, he realised what it was: Jongdae.  It was Jongdae that had landed on him.

He was lying face down on the ground, unmoving, but there was a growing red stain in his upper back, and Sehun fought the urge to vomit as he shouted for help.  “Yixing,” he shouted, barely a croak.  The splotch of crimson kept growing, and he didn’t know what to do.  He placed his hand over where the thought the wound may be and pressed down with all of his weight, silently praying that it was the right thing to do.  Gunshots were being traded freely now, and both sides were shouting things to each other, but it was on the other side of the wall.  It could have been on the other side of the world to Sehun right then, and he wasn’t sure how long it had been but soon Yixing was by his side, placing his hands on Sehun’s shoulder and telling him to help raise Jongdae so he could sit leaned against the wall.  Jongin hadn’t seemed to even notice the chaos next to him, too concerned with returning fire around the corner, but as he turned back behind cover and saw the disaster unfolding, his face went pale.

“Oh fuck.”

Sehun helped Yixing get Jongdae raised, still in shock, when Yixing placed a hand around his wrist.  It was meant to calm him down, he knew, but all he could do was stare at the bloody hand on his wrist.  _My hands too._ They were smeared bright red, almost glistening in the sunlight, and once more Sehun found himself wanting to throw up.

“Sehun.  Sehun… Sehun!” Yixing barked, finally jolting him from his trance.  “I know this is hard, but you need to go cover my side.  I can help him, but we’re exposed right now.  Sehun nodded, despite being distantly aware that he hadn’t really heard anything Yixing had said.  “Go, go quickly, and stay in cover.” He gently pushed Sehun in the direction he had come from, the back-right of their formation.  Sehun stumbled over, limbs feeling heavy in a far less pleasant way than they had earlier that day.  _Had that only been earlier today?_ That he had laid with Jongin in the meadow.  There hadn’t been any gunshots there.

Once he had reached suitable cover, he collapsed against the stone wall, a corner piece only a few feet high, a perfect position, he imagined.  His reasoning was starting to kick back in, but everything still felt lagging and fuzzy, as if he were only half awake.  He briefly realized he wasn’t certain where Zitao was, and a quick glance back revealed his Lionheart had found a rifle, Jongdae’s probably, and had taken up the empty position at the window.  That was probably for the best, they needed his marksmanship.  Below that, Yixing was cutting away Jongdae’s shirt, drenched with blood, and Jongin was still holding his own with the rifle _.  What if it was Jongin that gets shot next?_   The thought hit him harder than any bullet could, but he tried to erase it from his mind.  He shouldn’t dwell on it anyways, not when it was a very real predicament for Jongdae.

Shaking the thought from his head, he tried to fix his attention back on his watch, and did so just in time to see someone dart between trees at the base of the short slope on this side of the ruins.  He froze, only for the briefest of seconds, but the image of Jongin, bloody and bullet-riddled over his lap as he desperately tried to stop the bleeding flashed before his eyes, and before he could even truly take aim, he fired.

The gunshot was louder than he had remembered, and the bullet thudded harmlessly into the trunk of a tree.  Sehun wanted to hit himself; he had closed his eyes as he had pulled the trigger.  Cursing himself, he spotted yet another figure among the trees.  There was more than one now, he couldn’t afford to continue missing.  He chambered another shot, and as the soldier tried to dart from the cover of one wide trunk to another, Sehun took aim and fired again.  _Damn!_   He had done it again, closed his eyes at exactly the wrong moment.  He ducked back behind his cover and cranked another round into place.  He glanced over at the wall and was relieved to see both Jongin and Zitao were alright, and Luhan had now joined Yixing huddled over Jongdae.

A bullet cracked against the wall he was huddled against, snapping him back to his own situation. They knew where he was now.  But if he failed, they’d overrun the rest of the crew.  Sehun resigned himself; he had to make the next short, or else each of his friends would be killed.  He breathed as deep as he could, taking in air until it felt as though his lungs would burst and then releasing it in one drawn out sigh.  And as he did so, he turned and took aim, just in time to see one of the soldiers break from the treeline and charge his position.  The soldier, already too in motion to turn back, realized his mistake; Sehun saw it in his eyes, which were as wide as his own right then.  But this time, Sehun’s stayed open, and he fired.

The man, hit in mid-sprint, faltered first, and then stumbled, his momentum carrying him a few feet more until he skidded to a halt, face-down in the brush.  Sehun barely waited to see this, and he was back behind cover as quickly as he had left it.  _He had shot someone_.  He was stunned by the numbness he felt; there was none of the nausea he had felt after Jongdae had been hit, or even the self-hatred that he had felt after each of the shots he had missed.  There was just nothing, a vacuum in his chest.  And while it terrified him, right now he needed to use it.  There was still someone else down there.  Steeling himself once more to take a shot, he inhaled deeply…

And then it hit him.  An awareness of what he had just committed slammed into him, and the numbness inside vanished and coincided with the release of the floodgates that had contained all his revulsion and guilt.  He rolled to his side just in time to let some of it out, feeling the long dry grass tickle his face as he retched.  _Compose yourself.  Everyone else is fighting, is having to do this, why do you get a free pass?_   Sehun sat back upright, still hunched behind the stones and stomach no less tumultuous for its release.  Rational thought was trying to tell him to turn back and take on the other one, but he realised he wasn’t even holding his rifle anymore; he had dropped it in the dirt, and now staring at it lying there, he couldn’t bring himself to touch it.  _Murderer_ and _a coward._

Fire was still being exchanged on the others’ side, but Sehun suddenly became aware that no shots had been fired on him since... since he had shot the soldier.  Had he been wrong?  Had there only been one down there, instead of two as he had thought?  Sehun tried to remember, but found he couldn’t; every attempt to remember what he had seen when he looked past his cover only conjured the image of the soldier staring at him wide-eyed as he had run straight into Sehun’s bullet.

He tried to freeze and listen for any sound of movement below, difficult as it would be to hear among the cracks of gunfire to his side.  To his surprise, he could hear the rustling of grass, and… moaning?  It sounded far too close to be anyone hiding in the forest, and Sehun had a bone-chilling suspicion that he knew exactly what it was.  As warily as he could, he peeked around the side of his cover.  Sure enough, the body that lay only a short distance away seemed to be moving, if only barely, and the moaning was getting louder.  He was saying something, and after the third time it was repeated, Sehun could make out the word: _help_.

Sehun hadn’t killed him.

 

———

 

Jongin’s shoulder had begun to ache from the recoil on the rifle, but the end was in sight.  The guns firing back at them were growing fewer and fewer, and aside from Jongdae no one on their side had been hurt.  Worried as he was for his crewmate, Yixing seemed confident in his ability to pull through and for the time being, Jongin would have to be as well.  Of course, he hadn’t been happy about Sehun having to cover their flank, but it was better than having him at the front, and Jongin understood that he was going to have to get used to Sehun being in dangerous situations if he was going to be a part of the crew.

His Lionheart at least was having no problem adapting to peril; he had taken Jongdae’s perch and, once he had figured out how to operate the rifle, taken down half as many enemies as the rest of them put together.  Sehun seemed to be holding his own as well; Jongin was only able to check on him whenever he paused behind cover to reload, but from the sounds of it Sehun had only had to fire thankfully few shots, and even then he had not heard any from behind him for awhile.

He pulled the trigger just in time to narrowly miss one of the few remaining soldiers, who had slid back into cover after firing in Kyungsoo’s direction.  That was his last round; he’d need to reload.  Jongin leaned back fully behind the wall and shouted for Luhan.  The sorcerer had spent as much time back here with Jongdae as he had running ammunition to the others.  Hearing Jongin, Luhan managed to sprint back from Chanyeol’s position, somehow not taking a single bullet in-between.  He passed Jongin a few more shells, but it was clear he was relieved just to have an excuse to check on Jongdae once more. 

As Jongin loaded each into the magazine, he made sure to check on Sehun again.  He was still in one piece at least, but his rifle was on the ground beside him and he was peering around the side of the half-crumbled wall of stones he was crouched beside.  Jongin hoped that meant that whatever enemies had been there had been dispatched; there weren’t many more left to their front now either.  Once he had fully reloaded, Jongin cocked the rifle and turned back to the action.  Only a little longer and he’d be able to break position and check on Sehun.

 

———

 

The last crack of gunfire echoed for what felt like forever, and everyone waited in silence for another to come in response.  Jongin wasn’t sure how long it had been when Baekhyun’s voice shouted from the far side, “Is that it?”

It seemed to be.  Ever the bravest, Kyungsoo emerged cautiously from his cover, judging the battle to have been one when no hail of bullets shredded his body.  Considering this to be good enough for the rest of them, Chanyeol, Minseok, and Yifan stood as well.  Still, no one spoke, until Chanyeol erupted in a celebratory cheer, shaking his rifle over his head, and the others around him, even Kyungsoo, couldn’t refrain from laughing in relief.  “We did it!  Is everyone okay?”

“Jongdae’s hit,” Jongin shouted, though it still sounded bizarrely in the absence of gunshots.  Any elation that they had been feeling fell away from their faces, and they all hurried back to where Yixing was still nursing a bandaged but breathing Jongdae.  Belatedly, Jongin glanced over at Sehun’s position, only to see he wasn’t there.  Baekhyun had clambered his way over from where he had been stationed, so where was Sehun?  His rifle was still lying on the ground where it had been when Jongin had last seen him… _no, no no no_.

Zitao must have had the same thought process, because as Jongin hurried over to look for Sehun, the Lionheart dropped down from his perch and was soon right on his heels.  There was no blood, no body, which was small relief until he got closer and saw both only a short distance from where he had last seen Sehun.  Once his mind had caught up and air had returned to his lungs however, he realized that it was not Sehun but one of the soldiers.  So where was Sehun?

Before he could even formulate a thought as to what could have happened, Zitao was crouched over the body and speaking rapidly, and as Jongin rushed over he realised that the body was not a corpse at all, but merely wounded.  The man’s speech was shaky and murmured, but to Jongin he may as well have shouted. 

“They took him.”

“He’s alive?”  Jongin had firsthand experience as to how intimidating Zitao could be, but none of it could have prepared him for how terrifying he looked now.  He prayed for the sake of the soldier that he be as cooperative as possible; he had no clue what Zitao would do if he encountered resistence.

 The man twitched his head, which Jongin prayed was a nod.  “He… he shot me.  But he tried to help.  He tried to help,” he wheezed, sounding as though he was still in disbelief.  “But once he got here… the others… they took him.  Knocked him out, dragged him away.  Left me, though.”  He made a weak attempt at laughing.

“Where will they take him?”

“Back to the balloon, probably.  Take… him with them up to the _Indomitable_.”

The moment he had finished speaking, Jongin leapt up.  “They can’t have taken him far yet.  It can’t have been long ago.”

Zitao shook his head.  “He weighs less than ten stone, they could have dragged him back to Pruce if they wanted.  I need to get up to that ship.”  He was looking at Jongin in a way that differed greatly from the cold scorn he usually spared him.  It confused him for a moment, until he realized the insinuation.  _He needs my help to do it._

Good, because there was no way Jongin was going to let someone else go and try to save Sehun while he waited down here sitting on his hands.  “I… I think I have a plan.  It’s insane, it’s absolutely insane, but it’s better than nothing.”

“Anything for Sehun,” Zitao replied, and Jongin could tell it was without an ounce of hyperbole.  Zitao may be terrifying and frustrating, but Jongin had rarely felt more grateful for anyone than he did right then.

“Come on then, we’ll need help.”

 

———

 

Once he had talked it over with the others, he was relieved how quickly they agreed.  They would need to do something about the airship, the _Indomitable_ , if they were to escape, and even without that extra incentive everyone was willing to try to rescue Sehun anyways.  Yixing had patched up their wounded captive as quickly as he could, confidant that he too would be alright given time to heal.  Jongin was more concerned about Jongdae, but according to Yixing he was stable and just needed to be brought back to rest in a proper bed.  Luhan had performed some spell on both of them that apparently slowed their heart rate, and Yifan and Chanyeol were each able to carry one.  Meanwhile, everyone else had looted their enemies, snatching whatever pieces of uniform were still passable.  Once everyone was ready, they made their way back to the _Anteron_. 

Before he had been put out, their captive had been more than willing to tell them about the four soldiers guarding the _Anteron_ ; apparently Sehun’s show of mercy and being left for dead by his own comrades had rattled his loyalties.  Jongin hoped that being outnumbered would be enough to prompt these remaining four to surrender without further violence, but he also was not willing to let them get between him and Sehun.  Zitao had been silent since they had worked out the plan, but he seemed pleased enough with the willingness of everyone to help return his prince.  Jongin just prayed they wouldn’t hurt Sehun… he didn’t want to harm anyone more than he had to, but if he retrieved Sehun with so much as a scratch there would be little to stop him from steering that airship flaming into the ground.  If their prisoner was to be believed, he had been knocked out, but Jongin hoped that this at least meant they had intentionally retrieved the prince alive. 

The energy granted to them by the fight had luckily lasted long enough to buoy them back to the _Anteron_ , and they waited for everyone to catch up just far enough from the clearing to be out of sight.  True to the soldier’s word, four soldiers remained at the ship, standing guard over the port side; likely they were waiting for their comrades to return so they could return it to the Navy.  One of the balloons that had come down from the _Indomitable_ remained as well, filled and tethered to stakes in the ground, ready to go at a moment’s notice.  Up above the other had clearly already returned to its mothership, and was moored once more to the hull.

Once everyone with free hands had reloaded their arms, Jongin gave the signal.  His shoulder still sore, he elected to go with his pistol this time.  The closer range would better suit it, plus the hard grip felt nice in his hands, something he could squeeze.  Chanyeol and Yifan remained with their injured, and everyone else followed Jongin.

The moment they had emerged from the trees, the quickest of the soldiers began to fumble at the rifle hanging from his shoulder, clumsy, as if they hadn’t even considered that it wouldn’t be their own comrades returning.  Jongin fired though, once, over his head, and the six other barrels next to him were enough to convince the men that resisting would be pointless.  Kyungsoo and Yixing quickly disarmed them, and escorted them down to the brig without much protest; Jongin was grateful for at least that much.  Baekhyun had already gone to begin inspecting the smaller balloon; he had claimed he could fly it, so Jongin was hoping it was just to familiarize himself.  Knowing Baekhyun though, it was equally likely that he would be improvising.

Jongin turned to Chanyeol.  “Are you going to be set down here?”

The captain nodded in affirmative.  “She’s airworthy again.  Just make sure you take care of those guns quickly, or else we’ll be no good.”

“Sure thing.”  Chanyeol looked graver than Jongin had ever seen him, so he tried to force a little extra confidence into a lopsided grin.  “If this works I’m declaring myself the new captain.”

That, at least, earned a guffaw, and Chanyeol punched him in the shoulder.  “You couldn’t handle it,” he said, and the cheer fell from his face as quickly as it had appeared.  “Just be safe okay?  Get Sehun out of there in one piece.”

“I will.”  Jongin wouldn’t be returning without him.

For the first time since Jongin had met Chanyeol, the most animated man he knew, he was unable to read his face.  Any further attempts to decipher it were cut off by Kyungsoo hollering down to them from the deck, holding a bundle of clothes in his arms that was mirrored in Minseok’s. 

“I realised we were locking four perfectly intact uniforms our brig, so I liberated those as well.  All good?”

Jongin cast one last glance at Chanyeol.  “All good.”

 

———

 

“It’s still riding up into my—”

Any further complaint from Yifan was silenced by yet another of Kyungsoo’s death glares.  They, Jongin, Baekhyun and the ever-silent Zitao were already halfway up to the _Indomitable_ in the balloon, dressed in the uniforms they had been able to obtain.  Jongin held a certain amount of sympathy for Yifan; they had been unable to find any trousers of his size, though Jongin was not as worried for his comfort as he was for the solid inch of ankle he was able to see where the pants cuff ended prematurely.  The wounded soldier remained on the floor between them, thankfully still unconscious from Luhan’s spell.

Deciding to steer the subject away from Yifan’s genitals, Jongin asked Baekhyun the question he had been wondering since before they had even taken off.  “Will you be able to dock this?”  He had been flying it well enough thus far, but Jongin held concern for the more intricate helmsmanship that would be required soon, as the hull of the _Indomitable_ loomed closer and closer.

Baekhyun shrugged.  “Should be easy enough.”  _Great_.  Jongin’s entire plan was a longshot that they had all thrown themselves into whole-heartedly, because, well, first of all because Sehun was on the line and Jongin would not let him be taken.  But secondly because improvisation was where the crew thrived, and usually barrelling headfirst worked out the best for them.  But that meant once they got to the ship they’d be running on luck, and he didn’t want it all getting used up before they had even gotten aboard.

Nothing could be done now though, he would just have to place his faith in Baekhyun, terrifying proposition that it was.  “So, Kyungsoo, you know what you’re doing with the engines?”

“I can handle it,” he replied tartly, as though sabotaging capital ships was something he did every other day.

“And Baekhyun, Yifan, you two have a plan for disabling those guns?”  Yifan looked to Baekhyun.  Baekhyun looked to Yifan.

“We’ll figure something out,” Baekhyun hastened to reassure Jongin before he could once more raise his concern.

Resigned, Jongin turned to Zitao, still wordless in the corner.  “And Sehun will probably be in the brig, in the aft section.  You’ll just have to follow me, it’s going to take both of us to get out alive.”  Zitao nodded, eyes still burning with determination.  They were near level with the _Indomitable_ now, and Baekhyun was coming in to dock.  Jongin could see now, that it was not a very sophisticated system at all; two men stood guard on a gantry, with coils of rope to throw to the balloon and reel it in.  This was where their plan would face its biggest test; it all relied on those who had remained aboard believing they were the returning survivors of the battle.  Those that had absconded with Sehun had to have done so before the rest of their detachment was defeated, hurrying back as quickly as possible with their hostage.  Hopefully, that meant they’d have no clue how many of the Prucians had survived, and with a low enough amount of scrutiny they’d be able to impersonate those missing soldiers.  Their wounded captive would hopefully be the extra needed element of believability, returning their injured brother to the medical facilities onboard.  They would either be welcomed aboard or riddled with bullets the moment they docked.  _Time to find out which._

Once Baekhyun had gotten them level with the gantry, one of the soldiers tossed a line to Jongin, shouting “heads up!”  It seemed like luck was on their side, but it could just be the Prucians wanting their lifeboat back before they killed the imposters inside.  Jongin began to pull on his end of the rope, slowly, pulling them closer and closer to the hull.  Once they were bumping against the gantry, both the soldiers hooked clips onto the rigging of the smaller balloon that anchored it tight to the ship.  Warily, Jongin unhooked the latch that dropped the portion of the basket’s side that doubled as a boarding platform, allowing it to collapse with a rattle against the gantry.  Both of the guards’ rifles still hung behind their backs, which Jongin hoped meant their disguises had been successful. 

“Are you guys it?” one of them asked, as Baekhyun, Kyungsoo, Zitao, and Yifan, carrying the wounded soldier, filed out behind him.

Jongin’s mind stalled.  He hadn’t prepared to make small talk.  Luckily for him, Kyungsoo was on it.  “The fuckers got a couple of us, but the others who made it are still below getting their stolen ship ready for retrieval.  We’re just bringing this poor bastard back before he bleeds to death.”

The guard who had yet to speak eyed the body in Yifan’s arms.  “Better get him there quick.  But the Captain ordered one of us to escort the rest of you to the bridge, he wants to debrief.”

“Alright,” Kyungsoo replied, still blending seamlessly into his role.  He had been military once, Jongin remembered.  It was something Jongin frequently forgot, especially when it came to Chanyeol, Yifan, and Baekhyun, who were a little less rigorous in their self-discipline.  “You,” he said, pointing to Baekhyun, “Go with him in case he needs help carrying the wounded to the medical bay.  The rest of us should be enough to answer the Captain’s questions.”  This solution was amenable enough to the guard, who nodded and led them through the doorway into the interior of the hull.

Once it was Jongin’s turn to step inside, he was amazed by the insides of the ship.  The narrow ceiling to the hallway they had stepped into was low, but Jongin knew that meant plenty of space left for other levels above and below them, and with the dimensions of the ship that meant there would be an enormous amount of rooms inside.  Aside from the space occupied by the gas bags, every free inch would be utilized for its space.  The engineering of it would wow Jongin, were it not for the fact that it would complicate their mission that much more.  Jongin just prayed Kyungsoo’s charade would hold up under the Captain’s scrutiny. 

At the very least, luck still seemed to be on their side.  Immediately visible as they came inside was a large directory on the wall that pointed aft to the medical bay.  Baekhyun and Yifan thankfully noticed this and followed its direction wordlessly, leaving Jongin, Zitao, and Kyungsoo to follow their escort in the opposite direction towards the bridge at the prow.  The end of the hallway opened to a flight of stairwell that Jongin counted went about four stories further up and two down, meaning a total of seven stories.  Seven levels where they could have hidden Sehun.  They were going to need a map or something.

The soldier took a step towards the set of stairs headed up, when without warning Kyungsoo kicked out hard at the back of his knees, dropping the guard to a kneel.  Before he could even cry out, Kyungsoo was on him, arm wrapped tight around his neck.  Jongin didn’t even know where Kyungsoo had hidden a knife on his person, but one was soon held to the throat of his captive.  “Where is the brig,” Kyungsoo asked, not missing a beat.  Once he had loosened his hold enough for the soldier to gasp out a reply as realization came over him. 

“Fourth floor, aft, please don’t kill me.”  The last few words dropped to a wheeze as Kyungsoo tightened his grip once more, until the guard went limp in his arms.  Jongin glanced at Zitao, and was more than a little satisfied to see the shock on his face at the unexpected capabilities of their tiny first mate. 

Kyungsoo stood back upright, releasing the body to drop to the floor.  “There was no way we’d be able to stand a second of the Captain’s scrutiny,” he explained, then nudging the lump at his feet with the toe of his boot.  “This one’ll be out long enough for us to get what we need, stash him in a cupboard somewhere for now, I’m going to deal with the engines.”  And without a further word, he was off, headed back the way they had come.

Zitao was still more than a little shocked, and were the situation any different Jongin would have laughed.  “C’mon, help me,” Jongin said, grabbing the soldier’s arms and gesturing for Zitao to get his legs.  There had been a supply closet in the previous hall that would hopefully be unused enough to serve as a hiding place.

Once that had been dealt with, the two of them returned to the stairwell, ascending a level before doubling back towards the rear of the ship.  The access hallways were thankfully sparse in activity; Zitao was able to move with the trained stiffness of a soldier, but Jongin knew his own posture was lacking.  Hallways connected to hallways, to a sparsely populated mess hall, to another hallways, through the barracks, to another hallway, to yet another set of barracks.  The two of them passed through so many separate compartments that Jongin had begun to wonder if they would ever reach their destination, until they reached a corridor that opened to a small room with two labelled doorways.  The first read _stairs_ : the other, _brig_.  Jongin steeled himself, and he and Zitao both stepped through the latter.

The _Indomitable_ ’s brig was enormous, and entire hallway of cells near the size of the _Anteron_ ’s, and all but one were empty.  Sitting on the floor in the middle of the single occupied cell, about midway down the cell block, was Sehun. 

Relief washed over Jongin, before he could remind himself that they weren’t out safe yet.  Two other soldiers stood guard near over the cell, and Jongin decided it would be best if they could maintain their cover.  As calmly as he could, he marched over to the guards, Zitao still at his side.  Sehun’s head was hung, and his eyes were fixed on the floor in front of him but Jongin tried to keep his focus fixed on the guards.  _If Kyungsoo could lie convincingly, he could too._   Jongin cleared his throat.  “The Captain has ordered us to bring the prisoner to him.”  Upon hearing his voice, Sehun’s eyes flicked upwards and immediately widened once they recognized his and Zitao, but thankfully he remained silent.

The guard frowned in suspicion.  “He was just with the Captain, we were ordered to bring him to his cell not ten minutes ago.”

 _Damn_.  “He, uh, changed his mind, we’re supposed to—”

The other guard cut him off, and both guards placed their hands on the guns hanging from their shoulders.  “Whose division are you two in?”  Before Jongin could attempt to stammer an answer, Zitao was striking out.  He jabbed out hard with his right fist, driving it directly into the throat of the guard on their right, and before he had even hit the ground, Zitao placed his palm on the forehead of the other and slammed it back hard into the cell bars behind him.  The entire event occurred almost too quickly for Jongin to even follow, but two soldier now lay at their feet, and neither was rushing to get back up.

Sehun was on his feet in an instant, hands reaching through the bars to grasp at Jongin’s forearms.  “What are you doing here?!”  His expression was torn between elation, confusion, and concern all at once.

“What do you mean,” Jongin asked, unable to keep himself from beaming.  “I wasn’t going to let them have you.”  Zitao coughed pointedly from where he was kneeled, liberating a set of keys from the one guard.  “ _We_ weren’t going to let them get you.  Baekhyun, Yifan, and Kyungsoo are here too, but we need to get going, we don’t have long.”  Jongin stepped aside for Zitao to unlock the cell door, and once Sehun was free he threw himself at Jongin, pressing his face into Jongin’s shoulder.

“I was so worried they had killed you… Jongdae, is Jongdae alright?”

“Yixing says Jongdae will be fine, everyone else is fine, but we need to leave—”

Sehun didn’t seem to hear the last part, and instead turned to Zitao.  “And I owe you an apology, I’ve just been awful even though you’ve always given everything for me, and I don’t know how to even begin making that up to you.”

Zitao actually smiled at that, something Jongin wouldn’t even have realized he was capable of from what he had seen.  “You can start by shutting up so we can get out of here alive.”

That at least, seemed to focus Sehun on the present.  “Right, sorry.  What’s the plan?” he asked, glancing expectantly between the two of them.

“Well uh, here’s the thing…”

Sehun’s face went even paler than it always was.  “Oh hell, you don’t have a plan.”

 

———

 

Sehun chased after Jongin and Zitao.  While they didn’t have a concrete plan, Sehun was relieved to at least discover they had a rough outline of what needed to happen.  Kyungsoo would hopefully have thrown a proverbial or possibly literal wrench in the works of the engine, while Yifan and Baekhyun would disable the port side guns, enabling them to steal on of the detachable balloons and ferry over to the _Anteron_ , which, so long as it remained on the right side, would be able to avoid coming under fire.  Whether or not these other tasks had been accomplished depended entirely on the competency of Kyungsoo, Baekhyun and Yifan, and while Sehun had the utmost confidence in the former, he was a little more skeptical of the other two.  According to Jongin though, the best they could do was return to the balloon and hope the other three were there or at least not far behind.

The alarm bell that had been going off since shortly after Sehun had been freed had grown almost ear-splitting the further they progressed through the ship.  They had turned immediately after exiting the brig, heading down a set of stairs and following a chain of hallways.  The lack of soldiers encountered was beginning to worry Sehun, until he realized by thinking it he had just jinxed them.  As they entered yet another corridor, four soldiers entered from the opposite end. 

“The prisoner!” one shouted, and immediately four guns were raised at them.  Sehun braced himself for the shots, before realising that none were coming.  “Don’t move!”

 _They don’t want to fire while aboard the ship_.  In hindsight, the soldiers aboard the ship should have been armed with something less ranged, though, Sehun realised, no one had probably counted on anyone being able to infiltrate a flying warship.

“I have an idea,” Zitao murmured, as the soldiers began to close the distance.  “Cover me,” he added, directed at Jongin, “and stay low Sehun.”  And with that, he launched his body to the side, using his weight to smash through the wall of the corridor.  Jongin was ready, pistol instantly drawn, and in their hesitance to open fire aboard their own ship, he was able to unload on them first.  He hit one, and the rest dove to the ground to avoid a similar fate, giving Sehun and Jongin the opportunity to escape through the Zitao-sized hole in the wall into what appeared to be a galley.  Sehun realized now it was only the thinnest panels of wood that separated rooms; it should have been obvious given the fact that the ship needed to still be light enough to fly.  “That worked pretty well,” Zitao panted, obviously pleased with himself.  “C’mon,” he said, tearing across to the far side of the room to where a door opened onto what had to be the outermost hallway, judging by the portholes along the one side.

They had barely stepped out into the corridor when Kyungsoo collided into their group, and once the surprise had worn off, all four continued sprinting in the direction Kyungsoo had been headed.  As they ran, Kyungsoo somehow managed to find the breath to speak.  “They spotted the _Anteron_ taking flight, and everyone rushed to their battle stations; I still don’t think they’ll have even realised they have infiltrators.”

“Let’s just hope Baekhyun and Yifan pulled their weight then,” Jongin managed to pant.  The three halted at a doorway that opened to the sky, and Sehun followed them out onto the small metal balcony to which one of the detachable balloons was moored.

“Are they here?” Kyungsoo inquired aloud, to which Baekhyun’s voice responded from within the basket, as its owner popped into view over the basket rim. 

“You guys should have seen it, Yifan was badass!” Baekhyun was practically shouting as the four of them joined him and Yifan in the basket.  “He kicked a guy off a catwalk!”  Yifan looked sheepishly pleased with himself, but Kyungsoo was having none of it.

“Please just tell me you guys did something about those guns—”

“We did,” Baekhyun reassured him.  “Just with some flair, but we need to get a move on.”  Already ahead of him, Jongin had already detached the clips connecting them to the ship and pushed off from the hull.  Baekhyun quickly took control of the ship, further distancing them from the warship, just in time to see the _Anteron_ rising to meet them on the opposite side. 

“They’re about to fire!” Jongin shouted, still standing on the side nearest the warship and Sehun threw his gaze back towards the ship’s artillery, now visible as they got further from the hull.  Whatever Baekhyun and Yifan had done, Sehun hoped it worked.  The _Anteron_ was level with the guns now, and their tiny balloon was midway in-between the two. 

“Everyone hold on tight to something!” Yifan bellowed, and Sehun gripped one of the ropes connecting the basket to the balloon just in time for an explosion to rip apart the underside of the warship.  Still too close, the shockwave smashed into their basket, rocking it hard and turning it nearly on its side.   The arm that Sehun had used to hold on had been wrenched painfully, but this was quickly forgotten when he realised Zitao was hanging halfway over the side of the basket, and Jongin was nowhere to be seen.  The shock of the explosion had already doused him in a fresh batch of adrenaline, but it was nothing compared to how he felt when he realized Jongin had fallen out—

“I got him, someone help,” Zitao was shouting, and Sehun grabbed his legs and tried to pull.  Yifan and Kyungsoo were quick to help as well, reaching over the side to try to pull Jongin back into the basket.  With everyone on one side, the entire basket had begun to tilt dangerously, but once they were able to haul both back to safety, it was mostly level once more.  Sehun stared in shock at the remnants of the ship: while still retaining enough gas to keep from crashing to the ground, the entire underside had been destroyed.  Black smoke poured from the ship’s belly as the entire ship listed to its starboard side, away from the _Anteron._

“We jammed the barrel with a couple extra shells,” Baekhyun said guiltily, quieter than Sehun had ever heard him.  “I guess we should have stuck with just one.”

To Baekhyun’s visible relief, Kyungsoo did not immediately try to strangle him to death.  “Whatever.  Everyone’s fine.  We did it.  But Baekhyun, I swear if you ever pull something like that again I’ll load _you_ into an artillery cannon.”  His threat was undermined a little as it gave way to relieved laughter, and soon everyone else was joining him, in hysterics at the ludicrousness of their escape.  Yifan was still wheezing so much that he failed his first attempt to throw a line over to Minseok once they had gotten close enough to the _Anteron_ , and had to try again.  Sehun had laughed until his chest ached, and as the cook reeled them closer to the Anteron he found Jongin’s lips on his, and any breath he had managed to retain in his lungs disappeared. 

They parted once the basket bumped gently against the rail of the _Anteron_ , and as their weary companions stumbled over to the deck of their home, Sehun realised he needed to say it now, or else he might never have to willpower to.

“Jongin, I love you—”

“I love you too.”

 _Stop making this so hard_.  “I know.  But I need to go home.”  Jongin looked more upset than Sehun could have even expected, and Sehun’s throat felt raw. 

“This is your home, Sehun; I know this was a lot but it won’t always be like this, I promise—”

He was begging Sehun to stay, and he was terrified it just might work.  But it couldn’t, he had a duty.  “The entire Prucian fleet is headed for Paracielle, along with the fleets of every other power in Europe, and they’re having a conference to determine who will get it.”

“That doesn’t make any sense, Sehun, why would they all of a sudden all decide—“

Sehun fixed him with his eyes.  “Jongin, my grandfather’s dead.  They’re going to decide who gets Paracielle.”


	8. A Change of Course

During his absence, apparently Zitao and Jongin had come to see eye to eye.  Or at least in regards to Sehun.

"I don't think it's a good idea either," imparted Zitao, Jongin's head bobbing in agreement over his shoulder.  "The only reason I had wanted to bring you back was because I thought Paracielle was the safest place.  Now it's the last place you should be." 

"Zitao, it's the place I most need to be right now."  It was difficult to keep his voice from being whiny; but he needed them to understand.  Jongin needed to understand.  "They won't be able to touch me, not at such a high-profile conference, not without provoking the other countries.  The fate of Corbenice is going to be decided at Paracielle, and for better or worse, with the other countries my blood still counts for something.  Corbenice needs a voice at the table, and it deserves better but I may be the best it has."

Jongin was still reacting like Sehun was begging him to swim with sharks.  "Sehun, it's not your duty.  You're not a king, Corbenice will take care of itself."

"You're the one who told me I needed to be responsible for my birthright."  How could he not see this was what was needed?  "My father renounced his inheritance before I was ten, so even if the title doesn’t mean anything I am king, and apparently the world thinks I’m dead because they’re flocking to Paracielle like buzzards.  The captain, he read me the orders he had received.  He was gloating, Jongin.  _The_ Indomitable _is to make haste for the conference to be held at Paracielle, where official talks will commence on the 4th of September_.  That’s only three days from now.  I can drop the crown after this, and I will.  But this is how I repay my debt: by not letting them pick it apart like carrion."

"You don't have a debt—"

"I grew up in a palace, Jongin.  I've been living off of a nation that has long since outgrown me.  Please just, understand that I have to do this, and that you won't dissuade me."

Jongin's face soured.  "Part of being a responsible ruler is also knowing when you're making a poor fucking decision."  He turned and left, no doubt to clamber up to his perch on the rigging and pout.  Fine.  Sehun would give anything to be able to go and join him, careless and free.  But that was before, before he had been given a role to play.  Zitao admittedly looked a little cheered by the friction between him and Jongin, but he too was not giving up.  Before he could say anything more, Sehun pre-empted with his last card to play, the one he had hoped would remain unnecessary.

"I'm your friend, Zitao, but for now I'm also your king.  Don't make me order you to stand down."

For a moment, Zitao debated treason.  Sehun could see the argument playing out behind his eyes: Zitao could always lock him in the brig, keep him prisoner until it resolved itself for better or worse, with Sehun far far away.  "Or, you could forget I'm king, forget you're sworn to protect me, and just respect my wishes as my friend.  I do realize the irony in asking you know to help me sneak _in_ to the palace now, but I guess that's just growing up."  That, at least, earned a chuckle.

"Y'know what?  Alright.  I suppose if you're king now, your grandfather's orders don't matter as much.  But this is just me as Zitao conceding; the Lionheart in me is having a very hard time agreeing."

That was good enough for Sehun.  He didn't want a Lionheart anymore anyways, he just wanted his friend back.  Beaming, he grabbed Zitao and pulled him into a hug.  "Thank you," he whispered, not to Zitao but past him.  "Thank you for listening to me."

"Of course.  I just want you to be safe but I guess at a point I need to trust you to decide for yourself.  But don't think for a minute I won't be there protecting you."  When they finally let go, Sehun could see the smile he had missed so much back in full.  But it faded somewhat as Zitao carried on.  "And with Jongin... I'm sure he'll understand eventually.  He wants you to be safe too, he just doesn't know you as well as me.  See, I know that you're stubborn enough that if I try to stop you, you'll only do something even more stupid."

Sehun had to laugh a little, and it helped cover up the hurt he was still feeling from Jongin's exit.  He'd have to speak to him; if Sehun made it out okay, he was hoping to be able to rejoin the crew of the Anteron, and if he didn't, well, this wasn’t how he wanted to say goodbye.  But he would let Jongin cool off for now: first, he would speak to Chanyeol.  It wasn't only Zitao and Jongin that he needed to convince.

 

\--------

 

Chanyeol’s reaction was unsurprisingly negative.  "What?  What's wrong with you, no way."

"No, I'm not asking you to fly right up to Paracielle, just drop me off at Massalia--"

"No, I know what you're asking me," Chanyeol interrupted, dropping the calipers he had been using over a chart on the table.  "You're asking me to hand you over to the Prucians after all.  Maybe it's not still too late to see if we can finagle that reward after all."  No one laughed.  "So you're on board with this?"  He asked, this time directed at Zitao, who up to now had been silently flanking Sehun.  Belatedly, Sehun realised, no one had made any mention of Zitao returning to the brig.  He must have made some impression.

Zitao merely shrugged; while Sehun could tell he was warming to the company he still had a trouble expressing himself with his usual familiarity.  "He made a good point: it'll be dangerous getting there, but once Sehun's return is known there will be too many eyes on him to try anything without creating an international incident."

"So you're with him."  Chanyeol was disappointed.  Kyungsoo, who had been seated off to the side the entire time, had yet to speak.  His owl-like gaze alternated between speakers.

"I just know better to argue with him about this," Zitao deadpanned.  "Last time I tried to force him to go somewhere he sunk my airship.  I learned my lesson."

 _Oh yes._   Not a stellar act for the new King of Corbenice, even if it was while he was still only prince.  At the very least, at some point between his return and relinquishing the crown, he could make sure the sailors were returned home and well-reimbursed.  _If I make it_ , Sehun had to remind himself.  The confidence he had affected to convince the others had begun to slip into the cracks of his own mind, but then perhaps that was for the better.

Chanyeol thought for a moment.  He thought for several moments, long enough that Sehun's attention began to drift around the room, eyes awkwardly flickering away when they came across Kyungsoo's own staring back unflinchingly.  Finally, he was brought back from his thoughts by Chanyeol's voice.  "Fine.  You're a member of the crew, even if only for a short while; if this is truly what you want, we can do it.  I'll have to speak to the other crew members about it of course, any flight in Corbenice will probably be risky so they deserve their own say.  We'll start to head east but I'll need their consent before we go too much further. And I want you to know I don't like this."

Sehun couldn't keep from grinning, in spite of Chanyeol's obvious disapproval.  "This isn't goodbye."

Chanyeol mumbled something that sounded an awful lot like "fucking princes" under his breath and returned to focusing on his charts. Kyungsoo stood and marched over to Sehun with so much attention that Zitao started behind him, freezing in watchfulness once he realised no attack was imminent.  Sehun wasn't as confident.

"Jongin's not going to be okay with this."  He was scowling up at Sehun; next to him and Zitao, Kyungsoo was barely nose-high.  This did nothing to make him less intimidating, only making his eyebrows even more furrowed.  "Don't you leave him broken-hearted, King Sehun.  I like you, but regicide is an awfully tempting accomplishment to have under one’s belt.  And this one," he jabbed his finger at the chest of Zitao, "wouldn't lose me as much sleep.  Proceed wisely." 

With that the first mate made his exit, leaving a visibly furious Zitao and a bemused Sehun in his wake.  "Some friends you've made," Zitao grunted.

"Some friends indeed."  He hoped this wouldn't be the last he saw of them.

 

\------------

 

Jongin, as expected, was still above in the rigging even as the sun slinked below the horizon and the air took on a briskness that verged on uncomfortable.  Sehun had debated taking one of Jongin's jackets, but had decided against it.  If Jongin was already upset, it wouldn't help for Sehun to be presumptuous no matter how little he thought Jongin would care.  So he would put up with the cold; it wasn’t so bad anyways.

He had abandoned Zitao to dining alone, sure on the one hand that he would be able to hold his own but also a little concerned on the other of the consequences should things escalate.  He pushed it out of his mind for now, he could trust them not to get into any trouble.  Hopefully.

Sehun surprised himself at first with the ease with which climbing returned to him, before he remembered it had not been so long since he had last been up there.  The last few days had just felt like weeks.  His movements were sure now, and though he would likely never be able to scurry up and down and around as well as Jongin, he had already won some recognition as one of the better climbers.  With any luck, he'd get the chance to improve.

He found Jongin in his usual place, lying on his back in the netting.  Sehun joined him wordlessly, and was saved the difficulty of figuring out what to say when Jongin pointed upwards.  "There's the Big Dipper," he said.  Sehun said nothing; he had never been able to make out any images among the speckled sky aside from the one Jongin had just singled out, much to Junmyeon's frustration.  They were stars, they were already enchanting.  He didn't know why they had to make out shapes as well. 

Jongin didn't seem to mind his silence, speaking again a moment later.  "The two on the far side of the bowl, if you trace the line they make upwards it points to an especially bright star, the North Star.  Wherever you are, no matter how lost you are, as long as you can see it you can figure out which way is North.  It's always there, makes it the sailor's best ally as long as you're above the equator."  The subtext of dependability and constancy was beginning to put Sehun at unease, but it seemed Jongin was determined to keep discussing stars.  "Do you know the constellations?"

"I, uh I learned them, but a long time ago.  I don't remember much."  Despite his subtle accusations (or had Sehun just been reading too much into his words?), Jongin seemed surprisingly at ease.

"Alright, well time for a brush up.  Just to test you, which one's the North Star?"  Sehun's arm stretched upwards to point, with the shift in pressure on the net unintentionally pushing him closer to Jongin's side.  It was nice, even if Sehun was worried about the talk that would need to come.  He could humour Jongin awhile.  This first star was easy enough anyways, this one at the very least he could remember.  He looked to Jongin for confirmation, seeing the other boy squint through one eye to judge whether Sehun's aim was accurate.  When he nodded with a smile, Sehun knew he had passed.  "Alright, so, if you use your mind to trace a line from the nearest corner of the dipper to the North Star, and then keep going about the same distance past, there's another star almost as bright, got it?"

"Yeah... I think so.  It's not quite a straight line?"

"There's a bit of an angle, yes, but it's mostly straight.  Now, can you see four other stars that kind of make it look like a W?"

Sehun nodded.  It was a little uneven, but he could see what Jongin meant.  He wasn't sure what this zig zag was supposed to resemble though.

"Alright, that one's Cassiopeia, she was a queen or something in Greece--"

"She was queen of Aethiopia," Sehun corrected, and regretted it instantly until he realised Jongin was not upset by his interruption.

"You're right, I'm sorry," he apologized, bashful.  Sehun forgot sometimes, that despite Jongin's status granting him a better education than most, a lack of finances meant it had been cut fairly short.  He could read well and speak properly when he felt like it, and he had a good grasp on history, but it seemed this was where his learning had been limited.  His knowledge of the stars was that of a navigator.

It seemed they both could brush up tonight.  "Cassiopeia was known for being very vain, but she was even worse when it came to her daughter," Sehun explained, and was pleased to see that Jongin seemed genuinely interested.  "She would boast to everyone that her dear Andromeda was the most beautiful woman in existence."

Jongin perked up upon hearing the name, happy to be in familiar territory.  "Oh, that one's Andromeda," he directing his finger back at the sky.  "See the right three points of the Cassiopeia W?  Pretend it's an arrow and it's pointing to a bright star a bit below that kind of forms a straight line with two other stars, one on each side."

Sehun starts to feel exasperated before he realizes he actually can see what Jongin's talking about still.  "So that's Andromeda?"  Jongin nodded beside him.  "Okay, well Andromeda has gotten into trouble thanks to her mother, who had said her daughter was more beautiful than even the daughters of the sea god, and Poseidon wasn't too happy about that."

"I know Poseidon," Jongin affirms, pleased with at least knowing that much.  It was cute, to see his pride, but also a bit disorienting to Sehun; since arriving on the Anteron, he had been the one who never knew anything, who was always needing to be taught everything. This reversal of roles was a bit of a change, but Sehun would be lying if he said he didn't enjoy finally having a way to repay Jongin, at least a little, for all the knowledge had had given him.

"Yes, so Poseidon was furious and sent a sea monster named Cetus to attack their city."

This name too seemed to spark recognition with Jongin, but less enthusiasm.  "There's one named Cetus too, but it's below the horizon right now."

"It's hiding beneath the waves I guess," Sehun joked lamely, but was pleased when it elicited a snort from Jongin.  "But back then Cetus was making itself known, attacking the city over and over again.  Finally, the King--"

"What was the king's name?"

"Cepheus."

Jongin nodded with satisfaction.  "He's up there too, above Cassiopeia."

It looked just like a jumble of stars to Sehun, and when no explanation was forthcoming from Jongin he decided maybe that was all it was so he continued on.  "So Cepheus spoke to the Oracle--"

"What was the Oracle's name?"

"I don't know, I'll include names if I know them okay?  It was just an oracle.  And she told him that the only way to stop the monster’s attacks on the city was to chain his daughter to a rock and let Cetus have her."

Jongin frowned.  "He should put his wife out there instead, she was the one that started all this."

"Maybe, but he doesn't.  Greek myths tend to be very unfair."  He was really starting to enjoy the impromptu storytelling: it was clear that Jongin had become quite drawn into the tale, however rough Sehun's abilities to relate it were.

"So he does it?"

"He does it, but luckily just as Cetus is coming for her, a hero is flying over on his winged horse and hears her calling for help.  The hero is Perseus and the horse is named Pegasus," he added quickly at the end before Jongin can ask. 

He was pleased to be able to share again.  "Okay, so if you find the right end of Andromeda, it's the top corner of a square--"

Sehun was looking for a square, but he wasn't seeing one.  "A square?"

"A square, a square yes, four corners, you know?"  He sighed at Sehun's lost expression.  "Alright," and with that Jongin pressed his head up beside Sehun's own, trying to get as close to his perspective as possible.  He grabbed Sehun's still-outstretched hand that had been wandering amongst the stars, and with a firm grip he directed it back to the starting point.  "First corner."  He guided Sehun's hand to the right.  "Second corner."  Down.  "Third."  And back to the left.  "Fourth.  A square."  Sehun nods, and for the first time since arriving at the top of the rigging he noticed how cool the air was.  The contrast between the temperature and the warmth of the cheek pressed against his own only made it more apparent.  It was funny that even after being this comfortable together, after all they had done, simple skin contact was enough to set off all sorts of happy alarms in his head.  "That one's Pegasus.  And over here," he said, and Sehun could feel his warm breath just graze his cheek, "is Perseus."  Jongin guided his hand left, to another cluster of stars that made no sense to him.

"Yes, so Perseus rode in on Pegasus he saw Andromeda below and knew he needed to save her.  But he knew his sword would be no match for this enormous monster; luckily, he had something better.  Now he had just returned from slaying another monster, the gorgon Medusa, who was so hideous one look from her would turn you to stone, and he had kept her head with him as proof--"

"Wait, how could he cut her head off without looking at her?"

"Mirrored shield; he just looked at her reflection.  But he still had her head, so he showed it to Cetus and turned the monster to stone, saving Andromeda.  And then they got married. The end."

Jongin was silent for a moment.  They had both lowered their hands, but Jongin had yet to let go of his.  "So, a young princess is put in danger after her irresponsible family causes trouble, until a young hero flies in, rescues her, and flies far away?"  Sehun wouldn’t give him the satisfaction of looking, but he knows there's a smirk splitting ear-to-ear on Jongin's face right now.

At least he was in a better mood.  Sehun knew they'd need to discuss his return soon, but it was hard to bring it up when he wasn't sure how many more moments like this he'd be able to enjoy.

"Oh, fancy you're the hero?"

Jongin made a face like he was thinking.  "Maybe not _the_ hero but certainly _a_ hero.  I even have someone whose gaze can turn mortals to stone."

"Kyungsoo?"

"Kyungsoo."  They both laughed a moment, the nervous kind that comes with the knowledge that if that had been overheard they would probably both be dead by morning.  But then Sehun realized something else.

"Does that make me Andromeda?"  He wasn't sure how he felt about that.

"Well, you weren't chained to a rock, but you are very beautiful."  Sehun fought to keep himself from blushing from embarrassment.  He was used to being complimented; one couldn’t be royalty without enduring a little sychophantilism.  But it was the knowledge that Jongin meant it that gave him the spastic embarrassed facial expressions that he wished he could control, the surface symptom of some thrilling but undefinable feelings welling inside him.

"Well, I don't think that it was mentioned, but she was actually chained naked to the rock..."  Jongin looked at him stone-faced.  Had he pushed it too far?  He had, the timing was bad, and...

But then Jongin's face split apart into a roguish grin.  "We can arrange that.  If you want to complete to comparison."

Sehun laughed in spite of himself, driving his shoulder into Jongin's to help him ignore imagining what had just been suggested.  After Jongin had stopped giggling, he asked, "After he rescued her, where did they go?"

That question gave Sehun pause, as he tried to remember for himself.  "They go live in Greece, somewhere."

"So Andromeda doesn't go back to her old kingdom?"

Ah.  There it was.  "Well, they do go back at first for the wedding."  Andromeda had been promised to another man, she had her own royal obligations to sort out before she could run off with her hero. 

Sehun didn't say this; and he breathed a sigh of relief when he realized Jongin was not going on the offensive.

"You're really not going to give up on this, are you?"

Sehun squeezed the hand in his palm.  "I'm sorry."

Jongin frowned, but sighed in acceptance.  "Alright.  To be honest had already begun to accept it.  But you know I'm coming too.  Zitao's alright, but if anything goes wrong you might find yourself needing a smuggler’s skillsets to get you out."

Sehun had counted on this a little anyways, perhaps selfishly, but he had figured if Jongin could accept his return to Paracielle it would only be fair to allow Jongin to accompany him if he wanted.  "Thank you," Sehun said simply, voice croaking unintentionally, and he found himself smiling when Jongin squeezed his hand in response.

"Just so I know: Did anything happen when they went back to Andromeda's kingdom?

Sehun had hoped he wouldn't ask.  "Well... The man Andromeda had been engaged to starts trouble at the wedding, so Perseus shows him Medusa's head and turns him to stone."

"Huh."  It was clear Jongin did not find faith in this story.  Sehun could help distract him though, he was sure.

"Hey," he murmured, nudging the other boy.  "Why don't you tell me more about this rock you're going to chain me to?"

 

\--------

 

Sehun had not made it down from the rigging to his hammock until far too late the night before, stumbling into the bunkroom far too noisily while exchanging giggly shushes with Jongin.  Even Minseok's threats, alarmingly explicit given he was still seven-eighths asleep, had not been able to cow him.

What had made him slightly regret their indiscretions the evening prior was awakening to an empty sleeping cabin; him sleeping late was not the concern, but entering the mess deck to discover the crew already deep in discussion over breakfast without him was.

"I think it sounds like a terrible idea.  But if Jongin's gonna go too... I think we should all go."  Baekhyun's voice was clear before Sehun had even rounded the corner, but everyone remained silent after he came into their view.

"Morning," Minseok greeted him with a smile and handed him a plate with a sausage and fried potatoes.  Zitao wasn't in sight; Sehun would have to make sure he ate.  To be entirely honest, he wasn't even entirely sure where he had been sleeping.  Jongin wasn't there either, but an empty used plate on the table suggested he had wolfed down his breakfast quickly before taking care of his morning adjustments in the rigging.

When no one made any move to speak, Sehun stuffed a big forkful of potatoes in his mouth, only to choke violently when his eyes strayed to catch the glare Kyungsoo was giving him.  After several thumps on the back from a sympathetic Yixing and a few gulps of water, he was left with teary eyes and a whole lot of worry over what the menacing first mate wanted now.

"Jongin told us you two had a talk last night.  And that he wants to accompany you in your martyrdom.  He wasn't interested in being talked out of it."  He dropped his fork over his plate with a loud clatter, and Sehun noticed that everyone else had stopped eating as well.  Sehun found himself glancing at the door, hoping Zitao would return soon.  Kyungsoo continued: "Usually I'm able to talk him out of things.  He's like a little brother, you know.  But apparently someone takes precedence now."  Sehun tried to find somewhere to look other than at Kyungsoo's scowl; efforts to make eye contact with Chanyeol only saw the captain turn his eyes downward.  _Coward!_ Sehun fidgeted in his seat.

"Um, well he-"

Kyungsoo held up a finger.  "I like you, Sehun.  You're alright for a prince."  Though it seemed backhanded, Sehun would take it.  He was pretty sure that's about as far as anyone gets in Kyungsoo's esteem anyways.  "But if you want to run right back into captivity after all this then that's your choice.  But Jongin-"

"Jongin gets to make his choice too."  Sehun hadn't even heard Luhan enter the mess, and judging by the way all the heads turned at once, neither had anyone else.  "But he's already made it.  It's just everyone else who has to make their choice now."  He drifted over to where Minseok was still standing with his pan and sniffed at the potatoes before wrinkling his nose.

"But it's a suicide mission."  Already, Kyungsoo's adamancy was wavering; it was always bizarre to see the effect Luhan's words had on the crew, but Sehun had thought Kyungsoo at the very least was too stubborn to be swayed so easily.

Luhan shook his head, and when he did not follow it up with a statement, Chanyeol spoke up.  "It isn't a suicide mission necessarily; it'll be dangerous to get there, but once he's in the public eye they won't be able to touch him."  Sehun grinned at him, and seeing that, Chanyeol perked up, feeling he had been forgiven for abandoning him to his first mate a moment before.  “And even then, it’s just the Prucians we need to worry about.  The Tsar hates republicanism, he still refuses to acknowledge anyone other than the Ohs rule Corbenice.  And Britain won’t allow anything that gives any country the upper hand.  They and Russia both would want Sehun at the bargaining table if it meant another ally against Pruce.”

Baekhyun piped back up.  "So if anything, it sounds like the safest option for everyone would be to just deliver them right to the front door."

Less convinced was Yifan: "But then how do we leave?  Even if we can run a three-fleet blockade —one of whom, I remind you, is understandably not pleased with us— we set down, and what, wait for everyone to go?"

"How long could a diplomatic summit take?  A week?  Two?"  Baekhyun was being so kind arguing Sehun's case that he didn't have the heart to tell him it could range anywhere from that to several years.  They'd cross that bridge when they got to it.  "Need I remind you, we're friends with the king.  How bad is it to be grounded for two weeks, if it's at a palace?"

Yifan's eyes widened with realization.  "You just want to play royalty for awhile!"  Baekhyun grinned impishly, but it was Kyungsoo who intruded.

"So things get resolved, maybe even in Corbenice's favour, and Sehun still has at least enough power to grant us safety in Paracielle.  That's a big if.  The Brits will take a shine to us if they find out why the Prucians want our guts in the first place, but that's another if.  But let’s say everything works out, come time to go, the Prucian's have long since cleared out.  How do we know they aren't lying in wait for us the moment we get far enough away?"

"Kyungsoo, Kyungsoo, Kyungsoo..."  Baekhyun drummed his fingers on the table, seemingly oblivious to the steam coming out of the First Mate's ears.  Sehun realized he had never quite given him the credit he deserved for his bravery —or was it stupidity?— when it came to speaking to Kyungsoo.  "That sounds like you're planning two steps ahead, when have we ever done that?  You know us, we deal with those things when we get that far.  Who knows, we might get shot down way before we get even close."   Kyungsoo scowled with arms crossed, but he made no response.

"Alright.  What does everyone think?"  Chanyeol addressed the room.  "Luhan, you're in favour?"

Luhan nodded.  "There are a few books in Paracielle's collection I would very much like to examine.  I was just speaking to Jongdae in the infirmary, and he says he will go with whichever I think is sensible, so that's another vote for."

"Baekhyun, you seem pretty clearly in favour, even if its just because you want to exploit Sehun's birthright."  The bosun shrugged. "Yixing?"  Sehun realised now why his right side had been so quiet during the debate, as he turned sideways to realize their doctor had been sleeping upright in his seat. "Sehun, shake him will you, and we'll come back to him.  Minseok?"

"Yeah, sure.  It's not any dumber than Louisiana was."

"How about you, Yifan?"

He sighed deeply.  "Yeah, sure."

"Yixing?  Let's try again.  Thoughts on going with Sehun to Paracielle?"

Bleary-eyed, Yixing looked as though he hadn't been paying the slightest attention.  "Um, yes."

"Okay.  And Kyungsoo?"  The First Mate chewed his lip.  After a pause, one long enough that Sehun decided it was probably just to spite him, he said, "Yeah, sure, fuck it."

"Alright, that's everyone, I guess.  But if we're going to play diplomatic escort for a week, I want everyone to be on their best behavior.  That means you, Baekhyun.”

The following retort was lost to Sehun's ears as he excused himself to take a plate of food for Jongdae, who had been improving steadily but was still sleeping more than anything.  His heart felt buoyant inside him; someday he would have to find a way to at least begin repaying the crew for all they had done for him, but right now his gratitude was overflowing. 

 

—————

 

It was just a shadow, silhouetted against the dimming purple sky, and even though Sehun had never seen it at a distance it left no doubt what it was.  Jongin had apparently noticed it too.  "Does it feel good?  To see home again?"

 _Home_.  He supposed it was, technically, at least; he had been born there, spent nearly all of his life there, and yet there was no comfort in seeing it again, not like he'd feel returning to his quarters and Zitao after a long day of lessons or an especially harsh encounter with his grandfather. There was no reassuring comfort for him in seeing the palace.  It was home in name only.

Whenever Sehun would remember his grandfather would no longer be there, however, the thought of returning would brighten in his mind a little, no matter how guiltily he tried to tamp down on it.  He still felt fear at the idea of returning; the closer they drew, the clearer he could see the blockade of airships surrounding it, massive ones like they had encountered a few days ago but at least ten of them, drifting lazily in the air to slow to even recognize at a glance.  He was wading into the hornets’ nest, enemies and false friends who both would sting at the first opportunity, but it was an exhilarating fear.  It was nothing like the fear he felt at the thought of seeing his grandfather again, cold and helpless.  This fear made him feel alive and restless; ready to be the person his responsibilities required to be.

The thought of returning as a king also brought him some comfort.  His father had long since officially relinquished his primacy in the line of succession in favour of his son, and from the moment his feet touched the lawn he would be recognized as the acting ruler of Paracielle and ostensibly all of Corbenice.  That too made him feel a little too pleased for his liking, and he had to keep reminding himself this should not be about him.

"It just feels strange," Sehun said, finally, just as Jongin had been about to give up hope on receiving a reply.  "I haven't even been gone that long but it feels like it's been ages."

"You've done a lot of growing up since then."  Jongin moved to stand up.  "We'd better get down there."

Sehun nodded, and together they climbed down to join the others, who had begun to assemble on the deck.  Chanyeol had his spyglass trained on the growing shapes on the horizon.

"It looks like... Six British warships and about two times as many frigates.  Prucians only have five warships but maybe three times as many smaller craft than the Brits."  The Prucian ones at least looked familiar to Sehun, either resembling the massive airship he had been imprisoned on, or exactly like the Anteron.  “Get us near the British flagship,” Chanyeol shouted to Kyungsoo at the helm.  “We’re gonna need to tell them who we have on board if we want to get past.  Twenty degrees starboard, and start reducing speed so we don’t plow into them.  Jongin, you get the signal flags up for hailing; we don’t want to spook them and get shot down.”  Everyone else had busied themselves with other tasks, so Sehun assigned himself to helping Yifan with the lines they’d need to toss over to the other ship for docking.  As he secured one end of each rope to the _Anteron_ ’s railings, he wondered belatedly what would happen if Chanyeol was wrong about Britain being their allies.  Too late to worry about it now.

The flagship had apparently responded positively to their hailing, and Kyungsoo continued to slow them as they neared the rendezvous.  Everyone kept an eye on the Prucian ships in the distance, but none changed their course.  Soon he could better make out the specifics of the ship they were to dock with; it was not too different than the Prucian warships.  A large hull containing all the gasbags and crew areas, with a system of catwalks below bristling with enormous guns that looked just like the ones the _Indomitable_.  It was this lower part that must have been what they were going to moor themselves against, as Kyungsoo was taking them in too low to for anything else.

They were close now, and he could see the sailors running to and fro over the gangways, ready to receive them.  Kyungsoo had slowed them to less than a crawl, and as once they were close enough to being alongside the other ship, Yifan shouted the signal and they threw their lines to the sailors.  Sehun felt a rush of pride when his actually made it far enough to be caught; he wasn’t sure what he’d have done if it had fallen short.  It wasn’t long before the _Anteron_ was reeled in to being only a couple feet separated from the metal deck of the flagship.  Its men busied themselves with placing a gangplank between the two, and once they had determined it was steady, a smartly-uniformed man strode across with a small party of soldiers tailing behind him.  Even Sehun, comfortable with heights as he was, couldn’t fathom walking that comfortably over such a thin bridge, but such thoughts did not seem to concern this officer.

“I would ask if you were lost, gentleman, but then your dress tells me you aren’t under the Prucian navy as your ship would seem to suggest.”  He was smiling as if the whole thing was an amusing curiosity, seemed friendly even, yet there was something else to him that told Sehun he wouldn’t hesitate to give the order to send the _Anteron_ crashing down to the sea below.  “I am Admiral Kim Namjoon of Her Majesty’s Royal Navy.  You have the privilege of being moored to the HMS _Imperator_.  What is your business in these skies?”

Chanyeol snapped to attention to address him, giving an almost patronising salute.  “Well met sir, I am Park Chanyeol, captain of the _Anteron_.  We come carrying important cargo for the impending congress.”

The wry smile remained on the admiral’s face, but his eyes narrowed slightly.  “Quite frankly, Captain Park, while I will admit you command an impressive ship considering your crew look to be little more than common pirates—”  Behind Sehun, Baekhyun gasped in feigned indignation.  “—I can’t possibly imagine you have anything within this ship that Paracielle wants or needs.” 

That seemed like as good a cue as any, and Sehun stepped forward.  “How about its king?”  He decided the theatrics were worth it purely for the series of expressions the admiral’s face made as it went from confusion to recognition to shock to confusion again.  “Pleased to make your acquaintance, Admiral Kim.  With your blessing, we’ll be carrying on— it seems I am to be hosting guests tonight.”

 

————

 

To his credit, the admiral was not long in wishing them a pleasant day and retreating from the _Anteron_ with his boarding party close behind him, though his haste made a lot more sense once Chanyeol pointed out he was probably trying to figure out a way to notify the British ambassador that King Sehun would soon on Paracielle.  There was not a long distance between them and the palace, but the going was slow to keep from having to brake as much on their approach.  This gave plenty of time for Baekhyun to give cackling impressions of the admiral’s face when he recognised Sehun, growing more and more exaggerated with each re-enactment.  Sehun wasn’t sure how he felt about the haughty voice Baekhyun would adopt when he was saying Sehun’s part, but it at least seemed to be providing good entertainment for Yixing. 

Sehun tried his best to ignore them and instead watched the nearing palace from the railing.  Light emanated from every window, no doubt in honour of their guests; ordinarily, candles were used sparingly and less-trafficked areas of the palace would have to rely on moonlight alone.  It was also darker than usual tonight, owing to the dark clouds above and around them, a rarity in the temperate Mediterranean climate.  As they neared, the occasional drop of rain would plummet from the sky and splash cool upon his hands placed upon the railing, but Paracielle still held his attention.  He had never seen it from a distance like this before, and as he watched it grow bigger he realised he hadn’t really ever know what everyone found so beautiful about it. 

An arm snaked around his waist as Jongin appeared at his side, pulling him out of his musings.  “You realise I’m not going to let you out of my sight the entire time right?”

“I expected as much, I was going to make sure we had shared accommodations anyways.  I imagine a goose feather bed will be much more comfortable than the hammocks or rigging.” 

That seemed to excite Jongin.  “Ugh, I can’t remember the last time I slept in a real bed—“

Sehun smirked at him.  “I didn’t mean for sleeping.”  Seeing it was time to prepare for landing, Sehun left Jongin to pick his jaw up off of the railing and went to assist the others in setting down.  For better or worse, he was back.


	9. A Return

It had begun raining in earnest by the time they finished mooring themselves to the airdock, becoming a downpour that soaked them all to the bone.  It had been a delicate operation, owing to fact that the usually ample space was much more crowded than it had ever been.  The dignitaries, it seemed, had been ferried across from the capital ships in smaller craft much like they had encountered in Catalonia, and while small there were five currently resting on the palace lawns in addition to the _Majestic_.  None of Paracielle’s sailors had braved the rain to help them moor, but considering they probably looked like just another foreign ship come to take up residence, Sehun wasn’t sure he blamed them.

Once they had finished tethering the _Anteron_ down and securing the deck to prevent any flooding, the nine of them made a dead sprint for the main entrance of the palace.  Jongdae, it had been determined, they would move tomorrow morning rather than risk him catching something in the rain, and Luhan had volunteered to remain with him.  Somewhere between the ship and the palace, Jongin had decided it was a race, and by the time they had climbed the steps and tugged open one of the heavy doors, their breath was heavy and staggered from running and laughter.  The others filtered in past them into the atrium, but Sehun found his gaze glued to Jongin.  The other boys eyes were still pinched in laughter, crescents that hovered over a grin so wide Sehun could lose himself in it.  He was beautiful, he was always beautiful, but it was even more severe here in the soft candlelight, with his hair wet and clinging to his forehead, and a shirt that had turned translucent and hung off every contour of his body.  Sehun watched as a single raindrop trickled down Jongin’s cheek and came to pause on the tip of his chin, where it hung as if it were afraid to make the final leap.  Unbidden, Sehun’s fingers rose to touch Jongin’s chin, a light touch that wiped away the bead of water.  He didn’t understand why, but the thought of it falling seemed unbearable.  Jongin’s eyes met his, and his laugh melted away to a gentler smile, and in that moment Sehun felt so much love that everything— their setting, the rest of the crew, their situation— melted away, and all he was left with was someone that he needed to touch as a simple life necessity, so he did.  He kissed Jongin square in the mouth.

They were cold and sopping wet and it didn’t matter, there was just enough warmth in the body pressed against his that a shiver ran through his entire body.  The sound of the rain against the palace windows that had only just been violent in its volume now seemed distant and muffled.  The lips on his tasted like raindrops and Jongin, and when he finally surfaced he was more out of breath than he had been a moment ago. 

His attention was finally pulled from Jongin when Baekhyun whistled a note, long and low, and Sehun remembered the entire crew was right there with them.  He would not have to stew in his shame too long though, as a familiar figure was making its way down the grand staircase before them. 

“More arrivals?  I hadn’t been informed, I’m afraid I don’t have any additional rooms prepared, but if you have a moment we can prepare a few more.”  Junmyeon seemed to be even more overburdened than usual, and Sehun’s wonders whether he had been seen kissing Jongin fell away as he realised he had yet to be recognised at all.

The valet had reached the bottom of the steps and stood before them.  “How many of you are there?”  Not waiting for a response, Junymeon began to silently count, eyes flickering past each of them, until they came to a stop on Sehun, at which point they widened so far that he worried they might fall right out of Junmyeon’s head.  Sehun realised how he must look: wet, disheveled, and far-underdressed for his surroundings.  He braced himself for reprimand as Junmyeon came flying at him, but was surprised when he suddenly found himself gripped tightly in the man’s arms.  “We feared the worst when Zitao didn’t return—“

“He’s here too,” Sehun spoke weakly.  Junmyeon had always been an important figure in his life, but he had never been accustomed to such outward demonstrations of affection.  Junmyeon pulled away, and nodded as he spotted the Lionheart over Sehun’s shoulder.

“It’s so good to have the two of you back, things have fallen apart.  Your grandfather passing was difficult enough, but your father has taken your disappearance especially hard.  He hasn’t left his apartments for days, not even to greet the ambassadors.  They’ve been very offended, it was bad enough no member of the royal family would greet them, but to make it worse some republican ambassador from below has been flitting about acting as though he were the one in possession of the palace.  Inconceivable.  But now you’re back; good thing I’ve been preparing you for a moment like this your whole life.”

Sehun made to speak, but before he could Junymeon cut him off.  “Oh, but we must get you and your friends,” he glanced at the motley group standing around him, clearly wondering how Sehun had come to join them but keeping the question to himself, “washed up first.  We’ll get rooms made up for everyone too.  Your chambers are of course unoccupied, Your Grace, but I think the only others we have will be in the south wing.  I will get some servants on it immediately, in the meantime we can get you near a fire to dry off and I will see if we can find everyone some dry clothing.”  Junmyeon had turned halfway through his speech and already climbed halfway back up the staircase before he realised everyone else still remained at the landing.  “If you all would wish to follow me.” 

A few members of the crew exchanged glances, and even Sehun was taken aback by how harried Junmyeon seemed.  He was accustomed to the valet being an immoveable authority figure, not unkind but still stern and commanding.  In all but the highest of manners, Junymeon had run the palace; to see him so uneasy in what had used to be his element was distressing.  When no one else made the first move, Sehun stepped forwards and followed Junmyeon up the stairs, and the others were soon behind them.  He had known “home” wouldn’t feel the same, but he was beginning to realise it was becoming something else entirely.

 

———

 

Junmyeon had disappeared almost immediately after leading them into one of the palaces medium-sized parlours where a fire had already been lit and crackled happily on the hearth.  To Sehun’s surprise, Junmyeon had said nothing about not getting the furniture damp and in fact encouraged them to have a seat while they waited, leading Sehun to question whether or not he had indeed been broken.  The moment Junmyeon was out of sight Baekhyun flopped down on the nearest piece of furniture, a gold and cerulean satin sofa, sprawling out as far as his slight frame would allow and making an obnoxiously loud and prolonged noise of satisfaction.  The others began to make themselves comfortable, sitting on the remaining pieces of furniture that were not occupied solely by Baekhyun or else by the fireside.  As could be expected, Baekhyun was also the first to break the silence.

“That’s Junmyeon?”  When Sehun nodded, Baekhyun seemed surprised.  “From what you told me I imagined he’d be old.  Huh.”  His gaze drifted off into space.

“Oh no,” murmured Yifan, barely audible, but it was enough to be heard by Baekhyun, whose eyes immediately centred on Yifan in a slight squint as though he was daring him to say what he was thinking.

“What?”  It was a challenge, not a question, but to Yifan’s credit he accepted it.

“I know that look.”

Sehun looked between the two of them.  “What look?”

Baekhyun’s eyes didn’t stray from Yifan, only narrowing further.  Any remaining bravery in him seemed to have faded, so it was Kyungsoo that answered.  “He fancies him.”

That came as a bit of a shock; Sehun hadn’t even realised Baekhyun was interested in men, and thinking of Junmyeon as the object of someone’s affection was stranger still.  The others, however, found this uproarious, and Baekhyun’s eloquent response involved instructing everyone to “sod off” and a throwing a cushion at Yifan’s face.  Sehun considered telling him that treating the décor this way was not likely to endear him to the valet, but stopped himself when he realised this advice may not be appreciated at this exact moment, and the opportunity passed quickly as Baekhyun was quick to change the subject.

“So, if he’s getting us dry clothing, is it going to be as old-fashioned as everything else around here?”

Sehun realised he had no clue where Junmyeon would conjure the clothing from, perhaps the palace had a surplus of shirts and trousers somewhere.  He merely shrugged in response, took a seat on the floor near the fire and Jongin, and fought to not laugh with the others when Chanyeol asked whether Junmyeon’s trousers would be to Baekhyun’s liking.  By the time Junmyeon returned, he was beginning to feel at least slightly dry.

“I am ready to show you to your rooms, and we are preparing a couple baths for those of you who like one.”  There was a flash in his countenance that suggested he though this should be mandatory, but Sehun was just pleased to see a bit of the old Junmyeon shine through.  “You will also find clean clothes waiting for you.  Zitao, I trust you can find your chambers, and a bath has drawn for you as well.  As for you, Your Grace, might I recommend you elect to take the servant passageways?  Most of our visitors are staying in the north wing but it is still rather early and many will be wandering the halls; I don’t imagine it will take long for the news of your arrival to spread, but it would be preferable to keep it quiet for the time being, don’t you think?"  Sehun nodded, grateful for the advice.  It wasn’t something he would have even thought of.  “Sleep well, Your Grace, I will ensure your guests are well cared for, and someone will fetch them tomorrow morning to join you in breaking your fast.”

“Thank you, Junmyeon.”  The valet nodded, and motioned for the crew to follow him and departed back into the hallway.  Sehun placed his hand on Jongin’s to keep him from leaving with the others; hopefully Junmyeon would not notice he was one pirate short until they were several turns down the hallway.  Zitao took a little longer to leave, looking conflicted, but Sehun reminded him Junmyeon had posted guards at his bedroom, and he knew Zitao would be wanting to see his family.  Reluctantly, his Lionheart left through the same door the others had left through. 

Sehun lead Jongin to the one on the opposite side of the room, and peered out the door before exiting fully upon seeing the coast was clear.  They darted down the hallway, and right before it turned to an adjoining one, Sehun ushered Jongin into a smaller side door.  He and Zitao had been well-acquainted with the servant passageways from a young age, despite Junmyeon’s chidings of its “impropriety.”  They were plain, unadorned, tucked-away parts of the palace meant to allow servants to traverse the palace without using the main halls or staircases —heaven forbid anyone of a higher class should have to lay eyes on the people that cooked, cleaned, and cared for them— but Sehun and Zitao had discovered these also made for great shortcuts around the palace, even if they risked Zitao catching a beating like the time when they accidentally charged full on into one of the thick-armed washerwomen. 

Sehun told Jongin this story as they walked, and Jongin laughed at Sehun’s impression of Zitao’s crying, but once Sehun recognised the unfairness in Zitao being the only one punished, he lost his appetite for the story and they carried on in silence.  They encountered no one; they kept few enough servants as is, and what they had must have been mostly occupied with their uninvited guests staying on the far side of the palace.

Before long they had reached the doorway that would connect them to the hall off of Sehun’s apartments.  Sehun lead Jongin through, and immediately cursed his lack of caution when he realized they had just walked right into the plain sight of a lone man standing in the hall.  At first, Sehun kept his head down, hoping his plain clothing would help him evade attention, but this hope was lost when the man addressed him.

“Monsieur Oh?  So you _have_ returned.”  He sounded very pleased with himself, as though this confirmed a hunch, and the pointed lack of honorifics was not lost on Sehun.  His eyes lowered to where Sehun’s hand still gripped Jongin’s: they let go immediately, but the damage was already done.  The man smiled at both of them, and it filled Sehun with unease.  “I’ve been pacing these hallways hoping I’d catch you.  Apologies for the ambush, but I must speak to you about urgent matters that could not wait until tomorrow.  I have the pleasure of being Jaehwan Lee, Minister of Foreign Affairs for the Corbenician Republic.”  He emphasized the last word to ensure it did not go unnoticed, and extended his hand to Sehun, which he took and shook.  The gleam in his eye made it clear he was aware of the taboo of this, and considered it the first of many victories.  Jaehwan then diverted his attention to Jongin.  “And you, sir?”

Jongin glanced warily at Sehun before taking the hand that had been extended to him.  “Uh, Jongin Kim.”

“It is truly an honour, Monsieur Kim.  Now, Monsier Oh, I was wondering if we might speak somewhere more private.  It really is of the utmost importance we address the matter this evening.  It will not be long, just a few brief matters and I will be off and you will be free to attend to whatever you had planned for your evening.”  His eyes flickered over Jongin as he said this last part, and Sehun understood the unspoken threat: _I know what you two are and have zero reservations about making it public knowledge._   Sehun supposed he could at least hear what the man wanted; Jongin would be with him and he would have guards just outside his doors if he needed them.

“Certainly, Monsieur Lee, we may use my sitting room.  If you will follow me.” 

Appeased, Jaehwan followed them as they continued the brief distance down the hall to the entrance to Sehun’s chambers.  The guards by the door were no doubt confused by the two additional figures following their King, but upon seeing Sehun unworried by this, they said nothing.  After crossing the threshold, however, instead of continuing straight to his bedchambers he turned to his right, and entered the small but comfortable sitting chamber adjoining them.  This marked the first time he had ever hosted anyone in it, and despite its décor being nearly humble in comparison to his grandfathers’ former chambers, he felt embarrassed with the way Jaehwan surveyed it.

“Please, have a seat,” Sehun offered.  In truth, he still wasn’t sure how to deal with this man; he was pointedly rude, even downright belligerent, and yet just courteous enough that Sehun wasn’t sure whether or not he lose the formalities. 

Jongin quickly did so, and, to Sehun’s relief, so did Jaehwan.  Sehun settled into the seat across from him.  Jaehwan gently cleared his throat, and began to speak.  “You’ll forgive me if I’m blunt, but I have little respect for you or the crown you represent.  That is not to say you are not deserving of my respect, just that it remains to be seen whether or not you warrant it.  You see, Monsieur Oh,” he crossed his legs and settled further into the chair, “In Corbenice, one is not born being owed anything more than anyone else.  We do not evaluate a person on the blood of their birth but rather the blood of their sacrifices, for their nation and for their family.  Your family name means nothing to me, your title even less.  But what does hold meaning for me will be the decisions you make in the days to come.”

Even though these were things he knew, guilty thoughts that hung at the back of his mind, it stung to be reminded of how little he deserved the life he had been given.  Jaehwan had yet to say anything Sehun could not agree with himself, however, so he said nothing and waited him to continue.

This pleased Jaehwan, who looked as though he had expected Sehun to begin arguing by now.  “Now, I don’t believe I need to explain why Corbenice wishes to leave this summit with the uncontested possession of Paracielle.  The structure itself is worth the fortune of a medium-sized nation, let alone the added value of its contents: paintings, sculptures, rare books, and the like.  I also believe it should be obvious why ownership of such a prize should be returned to the Corbenician people.  It was, after all, built with the shared wealth of the country, even while thousands died of famine, all so kings and their spoiled princelings could live on their Olympus, shut off from their subjects.  As far as my government is concerned, Monsieur Sehun, Paracielle already belongs to the Corbenicians, and you are just a squatter.  We would have forced your removal long ago, had we the resources to spare on constructing an air navy, and if we didn’t run the risk of war with Russia.  You see, our good Tsar has been fearless in fighting liberalism and propping up monarchies across Europe, and so long as your grandfather was allowed to keep pretending to be king he was content.  Had we made to move on Paracielle, I have no doubt it would be the final straw and his armies would descend on Corbenice and assign it some king or another.”

“But this is where you may serve your nation, Oh Sehun, and pay for the years of comfort you have lived at its expense.  Because while your title means nothing to me, it means everything to the Tsar.  The other two view me as a nuisance, and he will not even acknowledge me as having any authority, but with your cooperation we can secure Corbenice the seat at the table it deserves.”  Jaehwan leaned forwards in his seat.  “Now, for your total cooperation, my government has authorized me to offer you and your father full pardons as well as three thousand Corbenician lyra, more than enough for you both to purchase reasonably fine homes and furnishings, with enough left over to live comfortably for at least a year, at which point I’m sure you’ll be able to find employment.  You would be welcome to live in Corbenice where you would receive the same rights as any other citizen, or you may move elsewhere if you prefer.  It means little to us, and you would be free to live the rest of your life as you wish.  Finally, and most importantly, Corbenice will assume the debt accrued under your grandfather.  In exchange, we would expect the following: full cooperation with the Corbenician National Assembly for the proceedings of this summit, which means you would need to do whatever is asked of you by their chosen representative —myself.  You would be a figurehead for Corbenice in the proceedings and take a major role in negotiations, but my authorization will be required for any official agreements, and together our goal is to secure Paracielle in the name of the Corbenician Republic.  Once the navies of the other nations have left, you will renounce any claims of the Crown or the Oh family to Paracielle and abdicate officially, ending the royal line.  The palace and everything in it: furniture, paintings —everything but the clothes you wear now— will become property of Corbenice.”  He returned to a reclined position, hands folded neatly in his lap.  “These are the terms you are being offered and enormously favourable to you, so treat them as final.”

Sehun wasn’t sure he had heard correctly: not only would he no longer be responsible for repaying the Crown’s debts, but he would be given enough to start anew.  And all he had to do was give up a kingdom that didn’t even exist.  What use did he have for Paracielle anyways, a thousand-roomed monument to the decadence of his forefathers that he neither wanted nor deserved. 

He could be normal.  He could be free.

And he would not even be abandoning his home, merely transferring ownership to a ruling body that had a better claim to it than someone who had just been born into the right family.  These were better terms than he could hope for in a million years, only…

“And what of the others who make Paracielle their home?”

Jaehwan reappraised him.  “You are referring to the servants your family employs?  They are citizens of Corbenice too, whether they know it or not.    I admit my government is not yet in agreement about the future of the palace, but all are in concurrence that it will continue to be used for some purpose or another, and we will need staff to continue to maintain it.  Aside from you and your father, every resident of this palace will be offered continued employment by the Corbenician government, and thus may continue to live here if they wish.  If they would rather leave, we will make arrangements to find them new employment and living situations on the surface.  They too, are victims of the decisions of the monarchy.”

That was Sehun’s last concern.  Jaehwan was watching him expectantly, and it was clear he would not be given much time for deliberation.  Sehun looked to Jongin, but the other boy’s slight head shake told him this would be his decision alone.  He took a deep breath.  And another.  And then he said the words.  “I consent to these terms.”

He was subjected to yet another long, appraising look.  “You’ve made the right decision, Sehun,” Jaehwan said, no sneer to his voice for the first time since Sehun had met him.  The familiarity was a liberty, but not one meant to be antagonistic for once.  “Whatever your family has done, Corbenice is your nation too.  I will be in contact tomorrow.”  And with those words he excused himself from the room, leaving Sehun and Jongin alone.

Once they heard the door to Sehun’s chambers close, Jongin turned his attention on Sehun.  “Do you feel like you made the right decision?”  _What was that supposed to mean?_

“Do you think I made the wrong one?”

Jongin shrugged.  “No, it’s just a lot to give up without much time to think.”

“I’ve never wanted it anyways.  Not that I’m ungrateful for everything I’ve had, but being a king, running the palace; I couldn’t care less.  I want to stay with you, sail with the others, see the world.”

That earned a smile, but it wasn’t long lived.  “My only other concern is Lee.  I’m not sure I trust him.”

Sehun bit his lip.  Where was this ten minutes ago?  “I guess we’ll just have to see.  Bath?”  The suggestion softened Jongin’s expression, and he nodded emphatically.  Sehun led him through his sleeping chamber, noting the amazed look on his face as they passed through, flickering candlelight casting their shadows like giants on the viridian curtains. 

“I can’t remember the last time I slept in a bed,” Jongin whined, “let alone one so nice.  Are you sure you want to give this up?”

Sehun laughed.  “Yes, I’m sure.  We’ll just have to make the most of it for the next few days.  I hope the water hasn’t cooled too much yet.”

Unfortunately, once they reached the adjoining bath room and Sehun had placed his hand wrist deep in the water, they discovered it had indeed cooled to just a lukewarm temperature, though whoever had drawn it had been kind enough to add one of his perfumed soaps, and mountains of bubbles piled above the surface.  The nights had yet to begin growing cool, so the temperature would be adequate, but it was a little disappointing all the same.  But then he realised another issue.

“If it’s already this cool, it probably won’t stay warm enough for us to bathe one at a time.”  He turned to face at Jongin, who was grinning ear to ear.  “You’re thinking what I’m thinking then?”

“Oh, I can guarantee you I’m not.”

“What are you thinki—“ was as much as Sehun got out before trailing off into a shout, as Jongin pushed him backwards, still fully clothed, into the water.  By the time Sehun had recovered from the shock and wiped the bubbles away from his face, a still-giggling Jongin had stripped and sloshed in with him.  It was cramped but not entirely uncomfortable.  After a bubble fight and quite a bit more splashing, they finally washed up before extricating themselves from the water and drying off.  Settling into the large, clean bed was a glorious sensation, and as Sehun drifted off watching an asleep Jongin scrunching his nose with his head on Sehun’s chest and a leg hooked over him, he realised he wasn’t so worried about these next few days at all.  As long as Jongin was here, things would be okay.


	10. An Intrigue

It took awhile for Sehun’s mind to rejoin reality the following morning.  Being entwined in the soft comfort of Jongin’s body and actual sheets made it even more difficult than usual to steel himself to get up.  _Perhaps I can sleep a little longer_.  He couldn’t imagine it was that late, though the overcast weather outside made it difficult to tell for a certainty—

He could see out the windows.  Someone had opened the curtains.

With that realisation he was fully awake.  “Jongin, wake up.”  This could be very bad; if one of the servants had seen them together in the bed, the news could already be spreading through the palace.  “Jongin!”  The lump beside him made a grunt but no effort to wake up.  But that’s when Sehun noticed it: a note, neatly folded in half and placed standing on the bedside table on the far side of the bed.  Deciding Jongin had already demonstrated he wasn’t going to be stirred anytime soon, Sehun leaned over him to grab it.  He was proven correct in his suspicion that Jongin would be undisturbed, though as Sehun returned to lie on his side of the bed the boy murmured something unintelligible and hugged Sehun’s free arm to his chest.  With his other one, he held up the note to read.

 

_Your Grace:_

_I intended to wake you as I have always done, but it seems the sleep was well needed.  There will be much to do once you awake, so I resolved to let you awake in your own time.  We will have a breakfast prepared for you and your friends in the southern dining room, and I have taken the liberty of collecting the garments you wore last night for washing.  I trust you can find suitable replacements in your wardrobe._

_Hoping your sleep is peaceful, Junmyeon._

 

The moment he had finished the note, Sehun buried his face deep in his pillow.  It was bad enough thinking about Junmyeon catching them sleeping in the same bed, let alone knowing he had discovered the incriminating pile of discarded clothing all the way over in the washroom.  Once he found he was becoming smothered, he pulled his face out of the cushion and read the note over twice again, searching for any note of reproach.  Even when he had determined there were none to be found, his worry was little alleviated.  Junmyeon’s strictly formal bearing often made it difficult to determine what he was actually thinking.  Swallowing down his fear for the time being, he decided he did indeed have what would surely be a busy day ahead of him.

 

———

 

The room their breakfast would be served in was rather near the salon they had waited in the evening prior, so he and Jongin elected to return through the servant passageways once again.  The smuggler was looking especially handsome that morning; their similar heights meant Sehun had no shortage of options when it came to picking outfits from his wardrobe, even if he was certain there were several items he could not seem to account for.  He eventually decided upon a dark blue waistcoat to wear over a plain white shirt and a pair of cream breeches for Jongin.  For himself, he would wear the same only with a waistcoat of grey instead and a moss green tailcoat; the latter necessary for the formal company he would no doubt soon need to endure.  He took great pleasure in playing dress-up with a barely-awake Jongin, and was well-rewarded for his efforts.  The breeches hugged his legs in the most glorious of ways, and it was an effect only enhanced by the similarly form-fitting waistcoat that emphasized his pronounced shoulders and narrow waist.  It took great discipline for Sehun to not tear off the outfit he had just laced Jongin into.

The servant passageways that had been deserted the night before was slightly less so, though most that passed by did so with only wide eyes and stammered responses to his greetings of good morning.  News of his return would long since have spread, so there was little use in hiding himself any longer; using the servant passageways was just to allow them to at least reach their destination and eat before Sehun was being introduced to dozens of dignitaries.     

Once they had reached the dining room, Sehun was little surprised to learn upon opening the doors that the other members of the _Anteron_ crew had already eaten most of the food on the table.  What did surprise him was the revelation of where Junmyeon had found six extra outfits when he entered to the sight of everyone wearing his clothes: articles from his current wardrobe for the taller men and ones from his teenage years for the others.

Everyone seemed to be in good spirits at the least —Sehun noted with joy that Jongdae and Luhan had joined them, and while the former still looked pale he was sitting and grinning with the rest of them—and though they had been boisterous before he and Jongin had even entered, they grew even louder as they all shouted over each other to greet the newcomers.  Per usual, it was Baekhyun’s voice that won out.

“How do we look, _your majesty_?”  He struck a pose that Sehun assumed was supposed to be contemplative, though it was slightly undermined by the fact that Baekhyun was still chewing a piece of bacon.

“Very handsome, maybe Junymeon will notice you now,” shot back Minseok.

“Yeah? Well… shut up.” was the eloquent retort, followed shortly by a thrown fork that came awfully close to Minseok’s face.

“HEY!” Chanyeol barked, overcoming the noise of the laughter.  “We’re guests in a palace, don’t throw cutlery.”  Attempting to steer the conflict, he glanced up and down Jongin and said, “You’re looking very sharp as well.”

Jongin blushed slightly, but grinned and performed a little spin to show off the outfit, to the barely concealed giggles of the rest of the crew.  Jongdae, who hadn’t ran through the downpour last night and was still wearing his own clothes, shouted, “Hey Chanyeol, looks like you have a new challenger for ‘tightest trousers’!”  This drew even more laughter from the table, and Jongin hastened to take a seat and, Sehun realised, hide his legs from sight beneath the table.

Sehun took a seat as well, but was not going to let this go unchallenged.  “What’s wrong with Jongin’s outfit?  I think it looks very smart.”  There were several _ooohs_ and one _you would!_ but Chanyeol dignified him with a proper response.

“Well,” the red-eared captain volunteered, scratching the back of his neck, “We’re very grateful but you must know these clothes aren’t exactly… contemporary.”

“They’re fucking ancient!” cackled Baekhyun.  “These are at _least_ fifty years out of style.”

Chanyeol at least looked apologetic.  “I don’t think Paraciellan fashion has changed much since the Revolution.”  Sehun hadn’t even really considered that; he had noticed people dressed differently during their travels, but he had just assumed that aristocracy would still wear the same fashions he had grown up in. 

He contemplated this some more as he dished up with what little offerings remained on the table, trying and failing to ignore Baekhyun’s giggling.

“Hey Sehun, are there supposed to be codpieces for these things too, or—“

“The outfit you’re wearing was made for me when I was twelve,” deadpanned Sehun, and the table erupted in guffaws as Baekhyun’s mocking expression soured.  If anything, things felt just as normal as they ever had.

 

————

                                                                                                                                         

"Your Grace," Junmyeon greeted the moment Sehun exited the doors to the dining room, leaving him to wonder just how long the valet had been there.  Zitao stood at his side, towering over Junmyeon but looking like his spirits had been lifted immensely by being able to see his family again.  Jongin passed through the doors next, and Junmyeon's gaze took a moment to re-evaluate him.  Sehun wasn't sure which would be better: Junmyeon saying something, Junmyeon saying nothing, or Sehun dropping dead that exact moment.  The middle option proved to be the case, and the valet instead handed him a rolled piece of paper.  "As I anticipated, your presence is already being requested; this is an invitation to afternoon tea with the British foreign minister Viscount Seokjin, apparently these afternoon teas have become quite fashionable on the surface, though I can't honestly understand how it does not impact one's appetite for supper.  All the same, it will be served at 3:00 in the Viscount's quarters.  Zitao would prefer to accompany you, I'm sure, he’s acquainted himself with all of our visitors and where they are staying.”

“For security,” Zitao clarified, and Sehun felt a little embarrassed that he had been sleeping in and not even considering this while Zitao was up early working.

“And, Your Grace,” Junmyeon fixed him with a concerned look.  “The official talks won’t commence until tomorrow, but I’m certain neither of us hold delusions that the Viscount wants only to discuss the weather.  Your cooperation will be a major advantage to any of the parties involved, so take care who you ally yourself with.”  Sehun nodded; this advice had come a little too late but he had yet to have second thoughts of his decision.  “Everything I’ve tried to instill in you has been to prepare you for a moment like this, and I just would like to state…”  His voice drifted off to silence, and he chewed his lip.  “I would just like to state that I have great pride and respect for the man you have become.”  He fidgeted uncomfortably, and his eyes again drifted to fixate on Jongin.  “And that there is nothing that could change that.”

The blood drained from Sehun’s face, rendering him even paler than usual.  His stomach had swooped uncomfortably as the inference in the valet’s words became clear.  Everyone stood silent; the only noise audible came filtered through the doors behind them, where the crew still sat around the table, too full to yet consider standing.  Sehun was about to say something, anything, just to break the tension, but when he tried to speak he found his mouth would not open, and that it was his eyes that were in motion: rapid blinking, soon followed to his horror by tears that beaded in the corner of his eyes.

Junmyeon’s eyes widened in alarm, and Sehun could not blame him.  He was already far beyond his comfort level in discussing emotional matters, and now Sehun was bursting into tears right in front of him.  To Sehun’s eternal gratitude, he immediately composed himself as though he had not even noticed, and directed his attention back to Jongin.  “I apologize for not introducing myself earlier, my name is Junmyeon.”

“I’m Jongin,” the other replied, taking the hand that was extended to him.  He glanced with concern over at Sehun, who was currently wiping the tears from his cheeks, but was reassured with a slight shake of the head. 

“It is wonderful to meet you, Master Jongin, I look forward to coming to know you better once this dreadful situation has passed.  But, with your leave, Your Grace, I must be going.  There is still much that I must still attend to in preparation for the ball.”

Sehun had just managed to compose himself in time to hear this last piece of information.  “Ball?  What ball?”

 

———

 

The ball, which no one had yet informed Sehun of, was to take place that evening to celebrate the commencement of official talks the next morning, and to foster an atmosphere of polite cooperation.  Sehun imagined it was more likely that their visiting aristocrats just wanted to be the first to dance in the world’s finest ballroom in over a generation, but if they could find political benefits then so be it. 

He spent his free hours intervening between their late breakfast and his appointment with the British minister wandering the palace with Jongin.  Zitao insisted on tailing them from a short distance, and refused to even walk next to them of participate in conversation, though Sehun did find himself feeling grateful for the shadow tailing them, as Zitao’s pointed glare was enough to keep most of the palace’s guests from approaching.  The sole exception was a young boy clutching a small piece of paper, who withstood Zitao’s scowl just long enough to pass on the succinct note.

 

_I heard about your tea appointment.  I will meet you outside his quarters._

_–Jaehwan_

 

It should have concerned him how Jaehwan seemed to always know anything, but Sehun found he was just thankful he wouldn’t have to be face to face with Jaehwan until later than afternoon, and decided he would make the most of what time he had left before things started getting even more complicated.

 

————

 

Things started getting even more complicated sooner than Sehun had expected.

The library was the site of the ambush.  Sehun and Jongin had been pacing through the shelves when a tall figure materialised suddenly from between to stacks.  Zitao immediately inserted himself between Sehun and the stranger and laid a hand on the handle of the pistol on his belt.  It was the same model he had always trained with, and no doubt looked amusingly archaic to the man he was trying to intimidate, but at the same time Sehun knew against a single man it was just as lethal as the modern model Jongin had.  Zitao only needed one bullet.

"Oh you're a fearsome one, aren't you?" the man chuckled, clapped Zitao on the shoulder, and made to step around him, to the Lionheart's utter astonishment.  Zitao made to grab him, but Sehun shook his head and let the man approach.  He was fairly certain he knew the person’s identity.  Sehun had been prepared for a man of some eccentricity from what he had heard, but none of these reports had prepared him for the Tsar's physical appearance.  He could not have been older than Sehun: handsome and tall, almost lanky, in his uniform.  

In fact, it was only in his dress that Sehun was able to deduce him as royalty at all: the uniform was unmistakably Russian and in truth not far evolved from how it had been prior to Paracielle's isolation.  But it was the ornamentation that made his title truly apparent: epaulets, cuffs, tassels, buttons, and a high-necked collar --all a lustrous gold in colour-- were complemented by assorted medals and honours pinned to his chest, and topped off with a scarlet sash that was draped over his torso, running from his right shoulder to his left hip, where a sabre --with a handle also of gold-- hung.  All of these effects stood in sharp contrast to the plain black of the uniform, but were well complemented by the red trousers.  

  "Well met, cousin!"  He extended his arm and Sehun went to take it, but found himself being tugged into a full embrace instead.  "It is so good to finally meet you after all this time," he said, finally releasing Sehun and stepping back.  

"Uh, yes.  The pleasure is mine as well of course."

The Tsar barked in laughter.  "We can dispense of the formalities, we are family after all, did you know?"

Sehun did not understand why it was only know that he was presumptive king that everyone suddenly wanted to drop the formalities.  In fact, before, it had been his family had been the greatest enforcers of a social order.  He did, however, believe that he understood what the Tsar was referring too.    

“My late grandfather’s great-aunt married into the Russian royal family—“

“My great-great-grandmother!  Corbenician blood runs in my veins as well.  I’m happy we’ve run into each other though, Cousin.  I’m sure we would have encountered each other this evening but this is better, don’t you think?  Just two Kings, none of these little bureaucrats.  If the other two had come, we could have all sorted this out in a day, man to man to man to man.  But alas, we’re the only two, we’ve got to look out for each other.  I’m going to do everything I can to make sure we get everything sorted out, and then maybe once everyone’s gone home we can discuss how we can deal with those troublemakers on the surface, eh?  But after, of course.  After.  I think you’ll find I’m a very useful ally though, and that things work out well for us over these next few weeks.  Very well.  I suppose I had best be off, I will see you this evening!”  And without waiting for a single word in reply from Sehun, he had disappeared once more among the shelves.

“I can’t believe I was worried about you coming here,” Jongin spoke once they could no longer hear departing footsteps.  “Since we got here, you’ve been making all sorts of friends.”  Sehun laughed, and elbowed him in the ribs all the same. 

 

————

 

True to his word, Jaehwan was waiting for him in the hall just off another which would take them to the British delegation's staterooms.  He was pacing the hallway placidly, stopping once he saw Sehun and Zitao approach.  

"Monsier Oh, just on time.  Are you feeling prepared?"

Sehun decided honesty was the best policy where Jaehwan was concerned; it seemed he was incapable of keeping anything hidden from him anyways.  "I'm still not entirely certain what this is; if official talks haven't begun—"

"—Then it's the perfect time for unofficial talks," Jaehwan finished for him.  He began to walk in the direction of the Viscount’s chamber, and Sehun followed.  "He's going to try to get you to agree to side with British interests before things get started, just like the Tsar did earlier." Sehun's ears reddened, but, again, he shouldn't have been surprised Jaehwan knew, not at this point.  "But luckily, neither of them seem to realize I got to you first.  You see, Sehun, you're not a player in the game, you're just the most valuable piece.   _But_ ," he continued, wagging his finger at Sehun's frown, "You have the good fortune of being wielded by a player who has promised not to merely discard you after winning."

"If you win."

"If _we_ win."  They rounded the corner to see a door flanked by two guard, and they both ceased their conversation.  Once they had approached, it was Jaehwan who spoke, with a degree of sarcasm that would have impressed even Kyungsoo.  "His Royal Grace King Sehun V for Lord Seokjin."  If either of the guards registered his town, they gave no indication, but opened the door for both of them to pass through.

The Viscount's quarters were not much different than Sehun's own —they were smaller, of course, and lacked the air given by a space that was truly lived in as opposed to that of temporary lodgings— but his status as the pre-eminent dignitary from the British delegation assured he would receive the finest rooms the palace had to offer.  Powder blue walls were decorated with white trim, and again, like Sehun's quarters, there was an adjoined sitting area into which he and Jaehwan were steered by a mute attendant.  Inside, their host was waiting for them on a plum settee, with three attendants standing sharply erect against the far wall.  There was a brief flash of confusion on his face at the sight of Jaehwan, but it was banished before he even began to stand up.

"Your Grace," he spoke, bending gracefully at the waist to deliver a bow that would have thrilled Junmyeon.  He possessed exceptionally fine features, a pretty yet still-masculine voice, and an aristocratic bearing, and it was this last quality especially that suggested he would be a different sort of player than the either the strategically belligerent Jaehwan or the blunt Tsar.  Once he had remained bowed for a suitable amount of time, he erected his back and extended a gentle, manicured hand to Jaehwan.  "Minister Lee, it is an honour to finally be meeting you in person."

Jaehwan took it, and to Sehun's shock, arranged his face into a charming smile of which Sehun had not even suspected he was capable.  "I assure you, that honour extends both ways."  

Once his hand was free, Seokjin waved his hand over the open furniture.  "Please, make yourself comfortable."  They did so, Sehun seated uncomfortably close next to Jaehwan, while Seokjin settled to seat himself across from them.  He gave a near-imperceptible gesture with his hand, and, like statues brought to life, the servants along the wall were in motion: pouring cups of tea, offering cream and sugar, placing carefully arranged plates of finger sandwiches in front of them.  Once they all held steaming cups of tea —fixed to their preferences— the attendants retreated wordlessly to their former positions.

"I would like to thank you firstly for your hospitality, Your Grace.  Your palace has been more than accommodating."

"I'm pleased to hear that," Sehun nodded in response.  

"I have been admiring the artworks when I get the opportunity, it is a particularly fine collection you have here, truly remarkable."

Sehun resisted glancing sideways at Jaehwan, who he knew must have several choice remarks stirring behind the blithe smile.  "Uh, yes, my grandfather was quite proud of his collection."

Seokjin's expression revealed nothing.  "No doubt."  He raised his teacup delicately to his lips, and sipped soundlessly before lowering it with perfect grace to the saucer in his other hand.  "At the risk of prying, I must say I am surprised to see the two of you in such close company.  I would have thought your interests would lie quite apart."

Jaehwan's lips curled into a grin that barely avoided becoming a sneer.  "So had I, Minister, but after a pleasant conversation we learned we were not so opposed after all."

"Well, I suppose things like these are changing all the time, aren't they?  Resentment and enmity get traded in for cooperation and mutual prosperity; in our age of progress it seems nothing is unconquerable."  He was still smiling, but the pleasant insouciance did not extend to his eyes, shrewd and thoughtful.  "And I imagine these newfound commonalities concern the current state of affairs regarding Paracielle, no?"

This question was directed at Jaehwan; it was clear the conversation already had moved beyond Sehun entirely.  The Corbenician took a long moment to drink lightly from his teacup before replying.  "Perhaps."

"Well I see no reason why such an alliance could not be for the best, though I advise keeping it from the Russian delegation for as long as possible; they might not be as pleased."

"We will inform then when it seems prudent to do so."

Seokjin's chin dipped.  "Well, seeing as you have taken me into your confidence, it seems only right that I should include you in ours."  He gently laid his saucer down on the table between them.  "The concern of my government is the balance of power within the continent.  Our current peace has held together this long because no nation has enough of an advantage over its neighbours, but this is changing.  Pruce continues to grow unchecked, and while Corbenice and Russia may each field roughly as many men, Pruce has a sky navy that dwarfs the capabilities of any other continental power.  If they were to gain any power over Paracielle, they would have a highly strategic position in the Mediterranean, giving them both the opportunity to attack Corbenice from both sides, if they so desired, as well as an advantageous staging ground for further incursions into Africa."

"And you're not ready to share that just yet, are you?"  Jaehwan tossed this in for effect, but was disappointed when Seokjin answered matter-of-factly.  

"It is true, every week we are finding new deposits of reserves, and the longer we can survey the better claims we can stake if Pruce decides to expand its colonial claims."

"But you're not just worried about them expanding in Africa, are you?"  It wasn't a question, Sehun could tell from Jaehwan's tone.

"You are correct... there are increasingly popular movements in favour of the unification of the German countries.  It's not assured, but as the most powerful, it is most likely Pruce would take the lead role in any confederation.  I have little doubt your government does not share our concerns on this topic."

Jaehwan nodded.  “It is something we’ve considered.”

Seokjin fixed him with a perceiving eye.  “You’ve also no doubt considered the best way for Pruce to rally the other German states to their cause would be a war?  An excuse to unite the nations under a single flag?”

“We’ve considered that as well, yes,” Jaehwan replied tersely.

“And finally, I’m sure your projections have also shown that the outstanding loans from the ostensible Corbenician Crown combined with the Republic’s hold of ethnically German territories makes Corbenice their most likely target.”

Sehun felt his heart sink with every word.  The situation was far graver than he had realised; this was not just a matter of deciding the fate of Paracielle.  These next few weeks could decide the fate of Corbenice itself.  Yet Jaehwan exhibited a calmness Sehun could not understand in response to the words he had just heard.  “That is correct.”

Seokjin lifted his teacup once more and reclined in his chair, gracefully crossing his legs.  “My government has a vested interest in preventing any of this from happening.  I have been instructed to make an informal offer of alliance.  My government is willing to take full responsibility for all of Paracielle’s debts, and will make a full defensive pact with the Republic of Corbenice; any aggression against Corbenice will be treated as an attack on Britain itself.  Now I am not yet permitted to divulge which, but Britain has also made a similar agreement with another nation—

“Russia,” Jaehwan supplied.

“As I said, I am not permitted to say, but this nation—

“Russia”

“This nation,” continued Seokjin, unperturbed, “allied with us, would effectively make Prucian ambitions a non-threat.”

“Russia will not ally with us,” Jaehwan insisted, calm but firm.

Seokjin sipped his tea, and laid it once more upon the table.  “Russia will do as we wish, the Tsar is not a difficult man to influence.  Now, in exchange for our assistance in these matters, we ask only the following.  Firstly, we wish the use of Paracielle.  Ownership of the palace and the island itself will of course remain with Corbenice, but we would request a twenty-five year agreement that would grant the British Air Navy exclusive rights to the island as a resupply port.  Furthermore, we would request Corbenice transfer ownership of its remaining American colonies to the British Empire.”

Sehun was certain Jaehwan would decline these terms outright, and was shocked when Jaehwan answered neutrally.  “These are large requests.  I will have to speak of it with my cabinet.”

Seokjin nodded understandingly.  “Of course.  They are large requests, but we are offering no small terms in exchange.  You may think on it; just know that Britain is holding its hand out, and  all you must do is accept it.”

Jaehwan went to stand, and Sehun followed his lead.  “You can be assured we will both be thinking upon it, Minister.”  He shook Seokjin’s hand, as did Sehun, and Seokjin saw them out.  It was only once they had travelled a ways down the hall and turned twice that Sehun dared ask Jaehwan what he thought of the terms.

“They are surprisingly favourable,” Jaehwan admitted.  “It would serve us a great deal to have the debt burden lifted from us, we would, of course, keep our other obligations to you.  My government might not be so amenable to a British port off our southern shore though.  I’m confident I can earn us even better terms with time.”

Sehun was not sure he shared this confidence; Seokjin had not sounded as though he was open to negotiating what he considered already very generous terms.  If there was one thing he had difficulty doubting, however, it was Jaehwan’s ability to get what he wanted, so he decided he would be reserving judgement for the time being. 

They walked in silence for only a few seconds more, until they reached a fork in the corridor.  “I will see you at the ball this evening, no doubt,” Jaehwan said, not waiting for a response before he turned down the adjoining hall.  Sehun continued on his original path, pondering what attending a proper ball would be like.


	11. A Formal Affair

It was only an hour into the first ball Sehun had ever attended, and he had already decided that, with a significant amount of luck, it would also be his last.

First, there were all the _people_ , scores of them, all wanting to introduce themselves as Lord Something of Somewhere, and most of them also hoping to introduce their daughters.  One of them couldn't have been much older than thirteen, but that didn't stop her father from rambling to Sehun for near ten minutes about how he had been hoping to find her a suitable husband.

And when he finally got a moment without anyone trying to ingratiate themselves with him, one of his new acquaintances would inevitably encourage his daughter to ask him to dance, a fate far worse than small talk.

It was not that Sehun hated dancing, he actually rather liked it, from what Junmyeon had taught him.  Those dances, however, had apparently gone out of fashion in favour of some new "waltz" that all of his partners insisted on, which had him tripping over his own feet with every step.

The most comfortable he had been all night had been when Jaehwan had appeared for a short chat, and to point out the Prucian Foreign Minister on the far side of the ballroom, a handsome if diminutive man who looked entirely out of patience with the event already.  Sehun hoped this meant they could find common ground on other matters as well.  He expressed as much to Jaehwan, who examined him curiously.  "Why do you think he hasn't come to greet you yet?"

"Well his government has been trying to kill me so—"

"Not officially.  He's supposed to be playing the diplomat, everyone here is.  But why have the three most important people in this room not come to greet you yet?  They're guests, it's only good etiquette to thank their host.

Sehun shrugged.  He had wondered why Seokjin and the Tsar alike had remained at separate tables on the edge of the room, far away from Sehun's royal meet-and-greet.  

"None of them know that you've met with any of the others yet, but they must at least suspect it.  They're going to wait and force you to make the effort, they're going to make you choose the order you approach them."

"What order should I approach them in, then?"

Jaehwan thought on this for a moment, then shook his head.  "They're trying to test you, the best thing to do is to just not perform their test.  Do just as you've been doing for the rest of the night."  Sehun groaned, but it went unnoticed. "Right now they’re all just trying to woo you, but that won't be enough, we need them to turn on each other outright."

“And how will that happen?  Britain and Russia are already allied and fairly hostile to Pruce as it.”

“Yes, it’s a little too comfortable isn’t it.”  Jaehwan looked pensive for a moment.  “I think I have an idea.  Enjoy your evening.”

“Enjoy your evening too,” Sehun offered back, but it was delivered only to Jaehwan’s already retreating back, leaving him once more on his own, at the mercy of the mob.

As for Jongin and the crew, they had disappeared from his sight not long after the evening had begun, trying to give him space to tend to his duties as ostensible host.  Zitao, on the other hand, was rarely more than ten feet away, only disappearing every ten minutes to inspect the status of the guard detail.  It was during one of these absences that Sehun felt someone brush against his back.

 "Hey, Sehun, c'mon," whispered a voice in passing, and he turned just in time to see the departing back of Minseok passing through the herds of guests, balancing an impressive amount of champagne bottles in his arms.  Rather than risk encountering another diplomat's daughter wanting to teach how to waltz, he decided it would be prudent to follow.   Minseok did not slow for him, but did check over his shoulder on occasion to make sure Sehun was still on his tail.  The cook led him across the width of the ballroom to the far wall, where the many enormous doors lining it were being kept opened.  The overcast weather of that morning had passed early in the afternoon and they had been left with a clear, moonlit night and a pleasantly crisp evening breeze that had the curtains flanking the doors flutter as though they too were dancing.

Minseok continued out of the ballroom through the doors, directly into the palace's courtyard garden.  It was not overly large: there was a large patio immediately outside the ballroom doors, in the middle of which was a squared fountain of lily pads and fish.  Beyond this, there were a few rose bushes and a small hedge maze, from which the sound of a jaunty fiddle was emanating.  The deeper he followed Minseok through the zigs and zags of the maze, the more the sound of the orchestra inside was swallowed by the sound of the fiddle, and in Sehun's opinion it was far better dancing music than what was being played inside.  The loud clapping in time with the beat suggested the fiddle player had an audience that agreed, and as he and Minseok rounded the last bend that opened to the clearing at the center of the maze, his suspicions were confirmed when the fiddler and his audience were revealed to be the crew of the _Anteron_ and a few newly-made friends, all red-faced with laughter and drink.  The fiddler, to his surprise, was none other than Kyungsoo, tapping his foot in time as he played, wrist snapping precisely to and fro with the bow, the fingers on his left hand expertly dancing over the frets.  The others were either dancing energetically on the neat grass or sitting and clapping in the chairs —clearly liberated from the ballroom— that encircled their makeshift dancefloor.  A few of the visiting chambermaids and other young servants had joined them, and Sehun could not blame them; it seemed a far merrier affair than that inside.  They even had a couple trays of food laid gently on the grass, and it was by these that Minseok laid all but one bottle of champagne, which he opened with a pop and proceeded to top up every glass held out to him.

"You found him!" Chanyeol bellowed, far louder than necessary as Kyungsoo had just finished the last song and was waiting for another.  He stood and seized him in an embrace, clapping him hard on the back.  When he let go, Sehun had a full champagne flute thrust in his hand, and a voice was shouting "to the king!"  Every other voice cheered, drinks were raised in the air, and their contents were downed.  Before Sehun had even fully lowered the glass from his lips it was being refilled, and with enough encouragement he drank this as well.  He did, however, internally remind himself not to get carried away.  Shortly before Minseok had found him, Sehun had been watching the Tsar from a few tables away and the man had clearly been drinking more than was appropriate for so formal an occasion, and, though his presence still looked to be mirthful one, Sehun had no intention of allowing his guard to be lowered like that.

As easily as the glass had appeared in his hand, it disappeared and replacing it was the familiar hand of Jongin.  Sehun looked up to see the other man's smiling face, and soon felt Jongin's other hand encircle him and rest gently on the small of his back.  Resisting a blush, Sehun instead did what was logical, and placed an arm on Jongin's shoulder.

As though Kyungsoo had been watching for it, the moment they were fully in position he launched into the next song, one even quicker more spirited than the last, and as he began to move to match Jongin he realized none of the others were dancing with them, merely watching and clapping and laughing joyfully.  Sehun's worries of messing up the steps as he had done inside were soon assuaged as he realized this dance was far simpler than the complicated step timings he had been attempting inside.  He only had to let Jongin lead as they bounced back and forth in time, hops and steps that were dictated in the moment and not by any premeditated order.  It was exhilarating, and he did not know if it was this or the champagne that was responsible for the happy buzz beginning to settle over him.  He and Jongin were both breathing heavily with their lively movements, but also from laughter.  The moonlight lit a sparkle in Jongin's eye that was prettier than any palace or kingdom ever could be, and for the thousandth time since he had returned, he was certain he was on the right path.  _It can be like this every night, no stuffy formal balls, just us and the crew._   Though it did seem as though Kyungsoo's fiddling was more of a special occasion, but they would have fun all the same.

The others could only watch for so long, however, and soon Chanyeol, Baekhyun, and Minseok joined them in dancing, each accompanied wholeheartedly by one of the young women that had joined them.

Sehun wasn't certain how many songs Kyungsoo had played before he lowered his instrument from his shoulder and announced he was taking a well-deserved break, "and several well-deserved drinks."

As though on cue, Yixing and Chanyeol both produced flasks of some unknown liquid and began distributing their contents among the flutes of the many merrymakers.  "Brandy," Yixing answered upon seeing Sehun's hesitance, and poured some in his glass as well.

"What goes better with high spirits than more spirits!?"  Chanyeol exclaimed, and was rewarded with sniggers.  Everyone drank thirstily, except for Jongin, who passed his to Kyungsoo once the shorter man had finished his own, and Sehun, who sipped politely.  Glasses were again topped up, and a very giggly Baekhyun, who sat unsteadily on one of the chairs with one of the ladies perched perilously on his lap, called for more music.

"Make your own," retorted Kyungsoo, before commandeering Sehun's brandy as well once it became clear he was not interested in finishing it.  

Baekhyun's grin split wide at that.  "All right," he held his glass out so the girl could refill it with the champagne bottle she held in her hand, and sipped at it once he had done so.  "Get ready love, you're about to hear the best voice in England:"

_“Pretty Polly, pretty Polly, it's I've come a wooin'!”_

It evidently did not take the other crew members long to realize what was happening, and they immediately burst into raucous laughter. Though it was clear Baekhyun ordinarily would have been an excellent singer, there was no effort to sound pleasant now.  He was more shouting than singing, the words coming out rough and slurred.

 _“Pretty Polly, pretty Polly, it's I've come a wooin'!_ "

Another voice hooted, but it was Chanyeol that took up the next line.

 _“She said creep and crawl through the window then, and—”_ the entire lot joined in a roar, “— _LETS GET DOIN!  AND LAY YOUR LEG OVER ME, OVER ME DO”_

It was clear this was a favourite bawdy tune of the crew, for they were banging their fists on the free chairs for percussive effect or else clapping their hands in the absence of furniture to abuse.  The drunkest of them swayed unsteadily in time to the words, and even Sehun found himself wishing he knew the words if only to be able to join in.

_“OH ME BRITCHES IS TIGHT AND I CANNOT UNDO 'EM_

_OH ME BRITCHES IS TIGHT AND I CANNOT UNDO 'EM_

_THERES A KNIFE ON THE WINDOWSILL, LOVE, TAKE IT TO 'EM”_

Baekhyun placed a mischievous hand on the leg of the young woman in his lap, which she giggled and swatted away.

_“AND LAY YOUR LEG OVER ME. OVER ME DO!”_

Jongin, though not nearly as drunken as the others, had been bellowing along, somehow looking cute doing so despite the ribald lyrics.  He stopped when Sehun touched his elbow, however, and leaned in to listen to Sehun over the drinking song.

_“WELL THE KNIFE IT WAS GOT AND THE BRITCHES CUT ASUNDER!”_

"I should get back to the ballroom, I can't have anyone notice me absent for half the evening."

_“THE KNIFE IT WAS GOT AND THE BRITCHES CUT ASUNDER!”_

Jongin nodded in understanding.  "I think most of them will be ready for bed soon anyways."

_“AND THEN THEY WENT TO IT LIKE LIGHTNING AND THUNDER!”_

Sehun excused himself, hardly noticed by the others who were still fully occupied by bellowing the song as loud as they possibly could.

_“CRYIN' LAY YOUR LEG OVER ME, OVER ME DO!”_

He had nearly exited the maze as they sang the final line of the song and descended into senseless laughter, the sound of this soon melted into the sound of the orchestra still playing.  Sehun was displeased to note the atmosphere in the ballroom felt just as stuffy and uptight as it had earlier, even as the guests consumed more alcohol.  The Tsar especially, it seemed to Sehun, had drank more than his share, as he watched the man walk unsteadily between tables, plopping down uninvited at the table of the very shocked-looking Prucian diplomat.

Another aristocrat, Russian, judging from his accent, was trying to encourage Sehun to dance when his daughter, when the evening began to fall apart.

"They WHAT?!" burst a voice, audible even over the orchestra and the buzz of voices, from the direction of the Prucian table, where the Tsar had leapt to his feet, seemingly granted increased coordination in his rage.  To their credit, the orchestra continued to play over it, until the Tsar kicked his recently vacated chair hard into another nearby table, drawing shouts of surprise from the men and women seated around it. By the time the last sounds of breaking glass dissipated, the room was deadly silent.  The Tsar's eyes scanned the room, and too late Sehun tried to position himself out of view behind the man that had just been speaking to him.  He was spotted, almost immediately, and the Tsar came barreling towards him through the crowd.

"You snake!  Allying yourself with the heathen radicals!  And making backroom deals with Britain before the conference has even begun? Dishonest!  Dishonourable!  Snakes!!!"  He had nearly reached Sehun, who remained frozen in place, when Zitao appeared.  It was almost too quick to process; Sehun saw his head sliding through the crowd, and the next second he was standing between Sehun and the Tsar, only feet away, with his pistol aimed squarely at his head.  "You wouldn't dare," the man seethed.  Zitao said nothing.  For a moment, it looked as though the Tsar was considering trying to tackle Zitao, but then to Sehun's relief he seemed to forget the idea.  But while the fight had left his body, the anger had not.

"I am appalled, _appalled_ , by my treatment here!  I come to you as a friend, as an ally, as family, and you spit in my face!  I go to speak to Minister Min, and he tells me you have already sold your soul to the radicals from the surface.  That's right, your republican ferret approached him earlier tonight, said he already had you in his pocket, had agreed to work with that British milksop, and now wanted to cover his back with an agreement with Pruce against Russia!"  He swayed as he spoke, but he had no difficulty finding more words to throw at him.  Sehun glanced around himself to see if Jaehwan or even Seokjin was around to give him some indication of what to do, but he could not spot the Corbenician minister, and he spotted Lord Seokjin just in time to watch as he hastily exited the ballroom through a side door with his small contingent of aides.  "You've betrayed my trust and the trust of every person here with your backstabbing!  You all think you're so above Russia!"  He shouted, turning to direct it at the entire room.  "We'll see, we'll see which empire stands when every other has fallen to anarchy."  He looked to be debating saying something more, before deciding he had ended on the right note.  He lurched into motion, heading to the nearest exit and grabbing the nearest bottle on a table they passed, trailed by his still-dumbstruck advisors.

To almost comedic effect, the moment the door had shut behind them, the orchestra launched back into the song where they had left off.  Their audience had diminished, however; much of the crowd had filtered out during the Tsar's outburst, and continued to do so as it was clear the tone of the night and the days to come had shifted markedly.  Sehun found an anger growing even within himself, as the tension of the moment faded and he was left to question how indeed the Tsar had been informed of something known only to him, Jaehwan, and Seokjin. Had Jaehwan really informed the Prucian Minister?  Was this really what he had meant to do, to disturb the alliances?  

Sehun dropped into a nearby chair, grateful at least that people had stopped approaching him --partially due to the scene that had just transpired, and partially due to Zitao turning away any of the few still trying— and he struggled to understand why Jaehwan had just blown the already tenuous spirit of cooperation to pieces.  He briefly considered approaching the Prucian minister, Min, as he and his inner circle arose to leave, but he decided against it.  He was already in deep, deep over his head; there'd be no sense tying stones to his feet as well.  Maybe he had made a mistake, maybe his return had only complicated things for Corbenice.  He grabbed one of the table's deserted glasses of champagne, downed it, and then another.

Sehun was no leader, or negotiator; he was a useless piece for the others to move around.  Corbenice could very well end up in the center of a continental war with the way tensions had soured, just because of his meddling.  He had just wanted to help keep Paracielle in Corbenician plans, but now they'd be lucky to even keep Corbenice is Corbenician hands.  All he had done since arriving was make things worse

Taken by a sudden whim, he turned on his heel and headed for the verandah, with Zitao dogging him closely.  Just outside, under the in the moonlight, the air had still yet to cool.  The crew, merrily in their cups and unaware of the theatrics that had just taken place inside, were stumbling inside.  Chanyeol was hiccuping happily, his gangly frame barely supported with an arm slung over a red-cheeked and only moderately-scowling Kyungsoo's shoulder.  Baekhyun seemed to have gained his second wind as was chittering happily to the young women laughing at his every word and clutching his arm; Sehun noted with amusement that this was an entirely different girl than he had last seen him with.  Jongin, thankfully, appeared to be among the most sober.  

"What's wrong?"  was the first thing Jongin asked as Sehun approached, while the others stumbled by with barely a nod in his direction.  The concern was clear on his face, and Sehun pulled him into a tight embrace, pushing his face into Jongin's shoulder.  They held it for a moment, until Jongin severed the contact before anyone else could take notice.  

Once Sehun had again composed himself, he turned to Zitao, still standing awkwardly a short distance away.  "We're going to walk the grounds; you can retire for the evening, Zitao."

He did not look pleased with it, but relented for the sake of Sehun's privacy.  "Be careful," he warned.

"I'll have Jongin," Sehun reminded.  It would not totally ease Zitao's fears, but he knew the Lionheart had developed a substantial respect for Jongin.  He gave a curt nod and departed, tailing in the same directed the court had just gone.  "Come on then," he said, starting in the opposite direction across the courtyard, gesturing for Jongin to follow him.  They walked in silence at first, re-entering the palace interior on the far side and taking the first exit onto the main grounds that they came across.  Jongin had not pressed him, but he found once they had emerged from the palace walls and were greeted with the sight of green lawns that dropped off into a dark sky, he could breathe easier.  It truly was a beautiful sight; giant clouds had begun to settle in the sky around them: imposing, wispy shadows lit to astonishing effect by the full moon.  Sehun took Jongin's hand, noting with some embarrassment the clamminess of his own, but Jongin drew no attention to it, and he felt grateful.  He led them purposefully to the southwest corner of the island, and as they walked he found that his account of the recent events spilled forth from his lips.  Jongin listened with silence, gently squeezing Sehun's hand whenever he began to get lost to his anxieties, a calm tug back to earth that he could never appreciate enough.  It wasn't just that Sehun feared he had made the wrong decision; he had refused to listen to Jongin.  Had he taken his advice and not returned, or even held Jaehwan at arm’s length, he might not have been in such a dire situation.  He expressed as much, but Jongin shook his head.  

"Whether you were here or not, these countries would squabble.  Whether you had allied with him or not, Jaehwan would have been a dangerous figure.  Actually, I'm happy you threw in with him; I'd hate to see what happens to people who turn him down."  

They had reached the grove now, the one where he had first seen Jongin, a distant figure among the trees.  "Do you remember this spot?"

Jongin smirked.  "You mean where we first saw each other, or where Yixing dosed you with chloroform?"

Sehun laughed in spite of himself.  "Deeper in the trees, there's a special spot strictly off-limits to everyone but the king.  I've never even been permitted to play there, I snuck in once and got locked in my quarters for five days."

"Alright your highness, shall I wait here?"

Sehun snorted.  "I'm king now, probably the last king even, I think I can invite one scoundrel-pirate-slash-royal-consort if I feel like it."

"Royal consort," Jongin said, trying the term.  "It's a shame it's only temporary, I could get used to a title like that."

He followed Sehun deeper into the thicket, both of them forced to move slowly in the darkness of the trees.  The path was difficult to follow, but he soon was rewarded with the sight he was looking for: within the heart of the grove, just meters from the edge of Paracielle, overlooking the drop off to nothingness, bordered on all other sides by overhanging branches from surrounding trees, was a small freshwater spring.

The clouds had begun to overtake the moon, but with the light that fell upon the spring shined through to the bottom of the impossibly clear water.  The surface rippled ever so slightly with the light breeze, and without even much conscious thought Sehun found himself unbuttoning his coat.

"What are you doing?" Jongin questioned.

"I'll probably never get this opportunity again, I may as well take it.  Tomorrow I'll be back in that nightmare but right now I want to swim in a natural body of water for the first time in my life."  It was still warm enough, why couldn't he?  He had shucked his shirt as well at this point, and was pleased to see Jongin had done the same.  He was indiscriminate in where he let his clothing fall, stripping of even his underclothes before sliding into the water.  Easing in felt glorious, the water cool but not unpleasantly so, refreshing in a way he had never felt before.  He lowered his head below the surface, feeling ensconced within his own underwater world, one separate from all the troubles above.  He surfaced when Jongin joined him in the water, and noticed the clouds now fully covered the moon, leaving them in near total darkness.  

To even find Jongin within the pool, he had to depend on the sounds rather than his eyes, which still struggled to adjust to the lack of light. He found Jongin's hand, however, and pulled the other man close.  Neither of them spoke, all there was to hear was the gentle rustle of the breeze through the trees, the swish of the water with their every movement, and the sound of Jongin's heartbeat against his own chest.  

He needed this right now, the closeness, to feel Jongin against him and to have his arms wrapped around him.  So much had changed, the least of which not being Sehun himself.  But it had not prepared him for this, for any of this.  He had been so foolish thinking he had anything to offer, just another silly spoiled princeling who overvalued his worth.  

For the first time in awhile, he could hear his grandfather's voice within his head.   _Weak.  Pathetic.  A dynasty of four hundred years comes to an end with you.  Disgusting._ It was being cruel, even Sehun knew that, but how wrong was it really?  He had failed, failed in anything that mattered, failed his ancestors and even the common people he had tried to betray them for.  Tears pricked at his eyes and intermingled with the droplets of water running down his cheeks from his hair.   _Spineless, pitiful, useless, spoiled..._  His body began to shake against Jongin's, and the other boy was whispering something in his ear but he couldn't hear it over the one in his head.   _Shameful, disappointing, traitorous, SODOMITE._

 _And what’s wrong with that_ , bit back Sehun's own voice within his head, shocking even himself; and just like that, the other voice was silent.  The tears had yet to stop, but as he held tighter onto Jongin, he could see through them into the distance over the edge of Paracielle.  The sky was near pitch black still, starless and moonless behind the clouds, but just as Sehun looked a bright bolt of lightning fired in the distance, throwing blaring light against the monumental, dark, looming clouds for a brief moment before extinguishing just as quickly.  When the sound exploded over them a moment about, Sehun jerked noticeably in Jongin's arms, earning a soft chuckle from the other boy, and he was reminded of his earlier thoughts.  

There was nothing shameful here, he knew.  What he had with Jongin... it may be something he had to hide around certain people, but it was nothing to feel ashamed of.  It was as pure and cleansing as this spring, and he would not let anyone, especially an old, weak, dead man, tell him otherwise.

What had he known anyways?  He had been content to live his life among the clouds, accruing debt, pretending he still ruled over a nation that had left him long behind.  How pathetic could Sehun be when he was at least trying?  It was more than anyone else in his family could claim in the last century.  

Another bolt of lightning illuminated the landscape of the sky in stark monochrome once more, and he found himself holding Jongin in love now, rather than fear.  For better or worse, Jongin would be here with him, and they'd find some way, somehow, to make things work.  When the boom of thunder followed, Sehun felt it mirrored within himself, powerful and resounding.  

"You okay?"  Jongin asked, and this time Sehun heard him fully.  

"I think we will be."  The water, fine when he had gotten in, now felt cool compared to Jongin's warm body, and a shiver passed through him when the next breeze floated past.

There was another flash of lightning, and almost immediately a downpour began.  Between the rain and the spring, Sehun felt as though whatever person he had been had washed away, those had been the remnants of an older Sehun, timid and naive.  He was not that Sehun anymore.

Eventually, he and Jongin climbed from the water, not hurrying especially; they were already wet, after all, and pulled on the bare minimum of breeches and shirt, scooping up the rest and carrying it with them as they tried to feel their way back through the trees, aided by the occasional flash of lightning.  

They dashed back across the grounds to the nearest entrance, feeling exhilarated in the evening rain, with every boom of thunder sending electricity up their spines.  They trailed drops of water as they walked, giddily whispering to each other in hushed voices about anything and nothing.  

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I nabbed Baekhyun's bawdy song from the most recent Far From the Madding Crowd film, where Sergeant Troy and the farmhands perform a pretty rousing rendition of it on his wedding night.


	12. A Catastrophe

They were nearing Sehun's quarters, rain soaked and still elated for it, when they rounded the corner to see Baekhyun, Junmyeon, and Zitao approaching from the opposite direction.  Sehun's greeting died in his throat when he saw the graveness of their expressions.

Zitao was tense.  "None of our guards could see you on the grounds, we've been trying to find you, where--"

"The spring," Sehun answered, but he knew already this was about more than just his being unaccounted for.  Outside, the thunder boomed.

"Tell him," Zitao said, nudging Baekhyun forward.  The boatswain looked entirely sober at this point, but pale.  

"I was... I joined one of my new lady friends in her stateroom.  Her father was one of the highest-ups of the British delegation, when he came in she had me hide under the bed.  I heard... I heard they had been given an order to evacuate.  The British are all returning to the airships."

Sehun could not even make sense of it; why would they leave in the middle of the night?  Unease coiled in the base of his gut.

"The Prucian and Russian delegations have disappeared as well, we checked.  The palace guards had spotted several of the ferry balloons returning to the ships, but that's protocol in a storm, they didn't think anything of it."  Junmyeon supplied.

Had they all gone?  "What of the Corbenician delegation?"

"The five of them are still in their chambers."

Sehun gulped, the silence interrupted only by another rumble of thunder.  He feared he already had an idea what was happening, but asked anyways.  "Why did everyone go back to their ships?"

"Because someone fears violence breaking out," Junmyeon answered gravely, confirming Sehun's fears.

"They can't seriously be thinking of it," Jongin interjected at his side.  "A battle at a diplomatic conference?"

"I don't think anyone's seriously thinking of a battle," Junmyeon supplied, "but tensions are high and everyone's panicked: no one is wanting to attack but they are all worried someone else will.  These countries were already on a hair trigger, I can’t imagine the events earlier tonight did anything to stabilize that."

 _Had his been what you’d intended Jaehwan?_   If it did come to blows, Paracielle would be the first casualty— it was a palace, not a fortress, and even one of those ships could level it if they so desired.  He didn’t see how that would be in anyone’s best interests, but then he supposed neither Britain nor Pruce needed the palace itself, just the island, and Russia was unpredictable enough at this point that he didn’t think he should make any assumptions.  At the least, it seemed prudent to follow everyone else’s example and be ready to get everyone off of Paracielle in case the worst occurred.  "First, we need to make the Corbenician delegation aware of what's happening, they need to know.  And Baekhyun, do you think the crew can get the _Anteron_ ready for takeoff?"

He grimaced.  "We can try."

"Hopefully we won't need it, but Paracielle won’t provide enough shelter if things turn sour, we’ll need a way to evacuate.  Zitao, where are the Corbenicians staying?"

"South wing, by the bust of Sehun II."  

Sehun dropped the pieces of clothing he had been carrying on the floor and began to walk briskly in the direction given, followed closely than the others.  "Zitao, inform the guards of what is happening and have them assemble all of the palace servants in the ballroom in case we have to leave in a hurry, make sure no one gets left behind.  Any sailors you see, let them know we need to have the _Majestic_ ready for takeoff immediately."

Junmyeon quickened his pace to walk alongside Sehun as Zitao took off down an adjoining corridor.  "Your Grace, I should tell you that when we could not find you, we tried to rouse your father, but he would not unlock the door to his quarters.  If worst comes to worst—"

"If worst comes to worst, I'll get him myself," Sehun muttered through gritted teeth.  The thunder boomed again.  “Junmyeon, you should go to the ballroom as well and make sure no one gets left behind.”  The valet nodded sharply, and walked with a short ways down the corridor before he too departed through an adjoining room.

He and Jongin reached the Corbenician delegation quickly enough, while Baekhyun continued along as quickly as he could to the crews' rooms.  It took little explaining to convince the small cadre of Corbenician soldiers responsible for guarding the rooms of the danger, and they began to enter the suites and awake their inhabitants with an immediacy Sehun was immensely grateful for.

The first to emerge into the hallway, groggy from sleep, was none other than Jaehwan, and at any other time Sehun would have delighted in watching the normally collected and controlling man freshly startled from sleep.  

"Sehun?" he questioned sleepily once he had summoned the awareness.  A flash of lightning briefly threw light upon his face.

"There's an emergency, wait for the others." Once everyone had assembled in the corridor, he explained the situation as quickly as he could.  It was a very strange sight to see these groggy, sleeping-clothed men and women transition to faces of absolute horror as they realized what was happening, but then Sehun remembered his and Jongin's own dishevelled appearances, and decided he could not criticize.  

For what Sehun suspected was the first time in Jaehwan's life, the man looked as though things had not played out how he expected.  In fact, he looked afraid, and that alone further emphasized the direness of their situation. "They weren't supposed to react this poorly...” he muttered, more to himself than to Sehun.

"Well, it looks like you underestimated," Jongin retorted coldly.  Jaehwan looked as though he might argue for a moment, but swallowed it. There was another boom of thunder, nearer than any yet, so loud it shook the walls. 

And then there was another boom.  And another, soon after.

Too close together to be thunder.

"They've started firing."  The colour had drained entirely from Jaehwan’s face.  "Those idiots...

Sehun didn't have time to contemplate the insanity occurring outside.  "We need to get back to the others, now! Come on!"  He turned tail back to the direction they had come from, waving for the others to follow as he began to run.  They did not have time to dawdle.  Since it had begun, the sound of artillery fire had not stopped; percussive explosions that echoed through the sky.  At least with the clouds and darkness it would be difficult for them to hit each other, but the thought of where their missed shots could land did nothing to aid their fears; if a single shot was even a fraction as powerful as what he had seen from the _Imperator_ , they did not need to be carefully aimed to cause immense destruction, and it sounded as though the gunfire was not coming from beside Paracielle or even over it, but _around_ it.  The island had become their no-man’s-land, and Sehun shuddered to think of how that would play out.

They were passing down a long corridor lined on one side by windows that overlooked the southern grounds; they were getting close now to the rally point.  Sehun had reached a near sprint now, hurtling down the hall, when the wall ahead exploded inward.

It occurred all at once and yet Sehun could discern every individual component of the destruction: the sound of the explosion blowing through the wall, the instinctive fall away from the impact, the shards of glass and stone that rained upon them, the shocked shouts from behind him, the high-pitched ringing in his ears, the room at swirled around him, and the hands that gripped him by the shoulders.

The blur in front of him was yelling something, and it became audible as the ringing subsided.  "Sehun?  Sehun?!" Jongin's face came slowly into focus, smudged with dust and deeply worried.  A trickle of blood ran down from his scalp to his chin.   _Why is he so worried about me, he's the one that's bleeding,_ was Sehun's detached thinking, but the words did not reach his mouth so instead he wiped clumsily to catch the drop of blood with his sleeve before it fell.

Jongin grabbed his wrist.  "Don't worry about it, it’s just a cut.  Are you okay?  You were so close--"

"I'm... I'm okay," Sehun murmured, the power of words slowly returning to him.  "The others?"  

"Rattled but fine," answered Jongin, clearly not quite yet convinced of Sehun's well-being, but Sehun could already feel his strength returning.  With Jongin's help, he hauled himself to his feel and surveyed the hallway.  None of the others seemed to be seriously hurt, though the shock was plain in their eyes; chunks and shards of stone and glass and plaster were strewn across the floor, splayed away from the ragged gap in the exterior wall that had been blown entirely out, taking a large part of the adjacent wall with it.  

They had no time to waste now; whether by intent or accident everyone still within Paracielle was in danger.  The moment the last of their group was back on their feet, Sehun was shouting for them to hurry and resumed his pace.  If anything, his close call had him thinking quicker now, and clearer.  They would rejoin the others in the ballroom and together everyone would make for the _Anteron_ and _Majestic_ ; hopefully neither would be struck in the chaos, it was their best hope.  Even sprinting, he could feel the reverberations through the hall every few seconds, rumbles from throughout the palace as stray rounds blew apart distant wings and rooms.  It had never been designed with defense in mind, and depending on how long these volleys were to be sustained the palace could be a heap of rubble by tomorrow morning. 

Even the older members of the Corbenician delegation were doing well at keeping up, and it was not long before they were skidding into the ballroom, where the palace guards were organizing the crowd that had been gathered into ordered clusters, diligently obeying Zitao’s shouted orders.  They were aligned on the inner wall of the room, away from the side that opened to the courtyard, where most of the windows had been shattered and a hole about Sehun’s height marked where another bit of artillery had struck a little too close for comfort.  About a dozen injured were being worried over by the palace doctor and a few more medically-capable volunteers, but to Sehun’s relief none looked to be too serious: sprains and cuts, but no one on death’s door.  Altogether, he would have guessed the count to be around a hundred and fifty civilians, mostly palace servants and a few strangers Sehun guessed to be those left behind in the rush to evacuate by the other nations.  Including the guards, the sailors outside preparing the _Majestic_ , and the crew of the _Anteron_ , the total count would be well over two hundred.

“Will we be able to fit everyone?” Sehun asked Jongin, and realized he was panting. 

“We should be able to, the issue will be being able to lift off with all the added weight.  We can throw overboard as many things as we can afford to lose to cast off some weight, but we’ll need to add more solium to the balloons. A lot more, and it’s a delicate procedure.”

“How long does it take?”

He looked as anxious as Sehun felt, eyebrows knitted in concentration. “A few minutes a canister, but there’s the difficulty of getting them all up to the rigging, too; I can climb up, drop down a rope and have someone tie the canisters to that but I still can only pull them up one at a time, and for this many people I reckon we’ll need at least seven or eight to get the neutral bouyancy we need.” 

They didn’t have time for that; every second the ships were exposed they were in greater danger of being struck.  As if to remind him of the stakes, another deep rumble shook through the room, and the chandeliers above rocked dangerously, elaborate crystal swords of Damocles that hung over the congregation.  “We can’t keep everyone here much longer…”  His eyes drifted over the terrified faces in the crowd: husbands and wives, children and parents, all clinging to each other in fear.  Was his father there among them, he wondered.  _No, he would keep himself apart from the commoners_. Did that mean he was still hiding in his quarters, refusing to open the doors?  If so, Sehun couldn’t just leave him.  Even if he had to drag him all the way out to the _Anteron_ , he was going to make sure his father was on board that ship.  But as he pictured in his mind’s eye the image of himself hauling his obstinate father across the lawns, an idea for their situation came to him.  Just a whisper, a _what if_ that might not even be feasible, but he needed to see all the same.  “What if we didn’t need to get lift; what if we just needed the ship to be light enough that we could all push it over the edge?”

Jongin considered it.  “Hmm.  You’re right, we don’t necessarily need to be able to gain altitude, and they’re both only a few yards from the edge.  I think we could do it with maybe four or five canisters, as long as we lost enough extra weight.  Then we just float down to the surface…”  As he talked it though, his brow lifted, and hope appeared in Sehun like a distant light at the end of a cave.  After a few more moments of mental calculations, Jongin was convinced.  “This can work.  If we divide the load right between both ships and have enough people pushing, we can do it.”  He even nearly grinned, the barest hint of a smile that gave Sehun more hope than anything else ever could.

“You need to go, then, and start adding the solium.  We’ll send the people out in clusters, I think, so we don’t get a buildup outside.”  As he spoke, Sehun spotted Junmyeon among the evacuees, speaking to people and marking on a piece of parchment.  He would need to ask him about his father.

“What about you?” Jongin asked, and Sehun realised his thoughts had been playing out on his face.

“Look, I can’t just leave my father—“ But as Sehun prepared to defend his decision, Jongin had grabbed his hand and placed the handle of his pistol in it. 

“I know, you have to do it.  Please take this though, I don’t think this’ll do you much good against an artillery shell, but it’ll help me knowing you have it.”  He smiled weakly, and Sehun couldn’t help but feel he should be the one so worried, considering Jongin would be up in the rigging in the midst of an out-and-out battle, but he swallowed the thought.  He was capable, and there was no one he’d trust more with getting everyone out of here alive than Jongin. 

“Thanks,” said Sehun, tucking the pistol under his belt.  It was easier to say than anything else — _Be careful_ , or _I love you_ , or _I don’t know how I’ll live if anything bad happens to you_ — it all seemed like saying it could jinx things, so Sehun chose to say nothing at all. 

Jongin seemed to understand this, and wordlessly pressed his forehead against Sehun’s briefly, before pulling back.  “Don’t take too long.”  And with one last worried glance, he turned and left the ballroom in the direction of where the ships were moored on the grounds, picking up into a loping run by the time he disappeared into the hallway.  For a second, the horrible thought that this would be last he saw of him danced through his mind, but Sehun cast it out immediately.  He didn’t have time.

He made a beeline to Junmyeon, who looked up from his checklist as Sehun neared.  He was bewildered for a moment by the look he was receiving from the valet, before he realised how much worse he must look from when they had last seen each other.  “I’m fine,” Sehun waved off the concern before Junmyeon could being to fuss.  “Do we have everyone?”

“I believe so, no one has been reported absent.  Your father though, he won’t open his doors, none of us have a key—”

Sehun nodded, he had already accepted that he would need to be responsible for retrieving his father.  “I know.  I’m going to get him, but I need you here to oversee the evacuation.  Start sending people out, but make sure they head out in smaller groups, so we don’t have a crowd collecting in the open along the grounds.  And make sure they follow a path with some cover too, staying near the walls as long as they can.”

Junmyeon nodded sharply.  “Yes, Your Grace, I’ll see too it.”  Sehun began to leave, but found himself turning when he heard his name spoken, unfamiliar and yet oddly calming coming from Junmyeon.   “And Sehun.  Try your hardest, but if he won’t budge, make sure you get yourself out.  If he was himself, it would be what he’d want.”  Sehun swallowed the lump in his throat, and nodded.

“I will.”

“Be safe.”

“You too.”  Another rumble, closer than before; it sounded as though it was in an adjacent room, but it was the cue Sehun needed to remind him of the precious little time he had.  He excused himself and made for the nearest staircase: his father’s apartments were directly above the ballroom, overlooking the courtyard; he hoped they had not sustained too much damage.  He took the stairs two or even three at a time, using his arm to haul himself up the bannister as he spiralled up the zig-zagging flights of stairs.  Was only a short sprint down the hallway at the top of the stairs to the main door to his father’s bedchamber, and Sehun took no time in hammering on it with both fists and shouting for his father to open it.  He shouted until he was hoarse, and continued to shout, but there was no response.  He sized up the door: it was thick and solid, there was no way he could break through it, unless…

Mentally, he thanked Jongin and drew the pistol from his belt.  He took a moment to place the barrel against what he thought would be the most effective part of the latch, averted his face, shut his eyes, and pulled the trigger.  Tiny splinters of wood flecked against his face, but once he opened his eyes and surveyed the damage, he realized he had actually scored a pretty good hit.  It only took three solid shoves to bust in the door, and he just managed to avoid tripping as he stumbled through into the room. 

The first thing he noticed was how much louder the outside noises were: the rain, the occasional thunder strike, and the constant boom of the guns.  This, he quickly realized, was due to the extensive damage on the far wall that overlooked the courtyard, and most of it had fallen away after what had to have been at least two direct strikes.  A figure stood among the rubble, surveying the battle playing out among the storm clouds, the battleships’ positions only being revealed by the muzzle flash of their guns or when a flash of lightning would silhouette them against the dark sky. 

“Father?” Sehun tried, but the figure had not turned away from the vista for his shouting before, or even for the pistol shot or the sound of Sehun bashing in the door, so it seemed little likely this would work either.  Sehun neared warily from the side; it was his father, but nearly unrecognizable.  His hair was matted and wild, his face unshaven, and his clothes clearly unchanged for several days.  He seemed to be aware he was not alone, but still did not address Sehun.  Right as he was about to try to get his father’s attention again, the man spoke.

“It’s all lost now.  All of it, you lost us all of it,” his father murmured, and Sehun’s initial response was one of anger that his father would place blame on him after hiding from responsibility like a coward, but as the muttering continued he realised his father was not addressing him, or even anyone in the room.  “Corbenice, my wife, our home, Sehun.  He was all I had left and now he’s gone too—“

“Father, I’m here.  It’s me, Sehun.”  This garnered no response, and the rambling continued.

“—everything was for the ‘good of our family’, you said, and look where we are now—”

“Father?”  Sehun was close enough now to reach out and touch him, but he was afraid too.  Gusts of wind were blowing the rain from outside into the room, he was not sure which it was that had him shivering.

“—you’re dead and buried and so soon will I be, buried in the wreckage of the monument to our family’s failures—”

Sehun overruled his fear, and laid a gentle hand on his father’s shoulder, but immediately recoiled when his father jerked away like he had been burned.  The man whirled on him, and for a moment Sehun feared he might attack, but after seeing Sehun’s face, the wildness began to slide off of his father’s face.

“Sehun?”  It was disbelief, sheer astonishment.  Sehun had always known his father was not as strong a man as he had perhaps once been; whatever streak of resilience or independence had been extinguished with the death of Sehun’s mother, but none of that could prepare him for how truly pitiable his father looked in that moment.  Dripping wet, shivering, unwashed and unkempt, standing in the debris that had once been part of his home, and yet the man looked truly elated. 

He was unsure how to respond.  “Yeah, it’s me—” but his last word was muffled as he was pulled into a tight embrace.  After so many years of cool distance, his father’s walls had been blown down as easily as those of his quarters, and Sehun soon realized his father was actually sobbing against him.  It was too much, too quickly; he had always wanted the recognition of his father, for him to be more than just his grandfather’s minion and to stand up for him, but now that he was finally receiving the affection he had always craved, it made Sehun angry.  Who was his father to suddenly now, in the midst of crisis, decide to be a caring parent?

Outside, another stray round careened into one of the sloped roofs, sending shingles to cascade over the courtyard, and Sehun decided they did not have the time to wait his father’s madness out.  Someone had to be in charge.  “Father,” he said, prying himself out of the man’s grip.  Tears were still in his eyes, but he had at least stopped sobbing.  “Father, we need to get going, they’ll be ready to take off soon.”  He look confused, as though his understanding of the situation had not yet progressed beyond becoming cognizant of Sehun’s presence, but he was at least pliable now, and Sehun was able to convince him to follow him out of the quarters without much persuasion. 

They made their way down the stairs slowly, his father’s weakened condition necessitating a slower pace, but with Sehun’s aid they were able to move relatively quickly.  As they neared the bottom of the staircase, Sehun was preparing himself to resume a faster speed, only half-hearing his father’s murmured babblings.  The moment their heels touched down on the checkered tile of the landing, Sehun was pulling his father by the elbow into the hallway that he had taken between the ballroom and the staircase; a major conduit of the palace, it was also the quickest route outside.  It sounded as though the gunfire was far from being over, and taking the entrance out onto the grounds would place them in direct exposure as they crossed the lawns to the landing pads, but they had already been too long in departing and Sehun could not afford the extra time it would take to slither through the labyrinthine passages and rooms of the south or west wings.   They would provide better cover than running in the open, but judging by what Sehun had seen of the palace from his father’s quarters, if they travelled through the interior they would run the risk of collapsed passages and obstructing debris.  No, a straight sprint across the grounds would be their best option.

They continued down the hall, but instead of taking a left to what Sehun noticed was now a thankfully vacant ballroom, they turned right, to the grand hall that connected the ballroom to the main foyer, which provided direct access to the lawns.  But as they rounded the threshold however, Sehun noticed two figures at the far end of the hall, walking with their backs facing him.  They were easy enough to identify, however, as their scarlet trousers and navy jackets marked them as two of the Corbenician contingent.  Had they been posted here to wait for him and his father?  It seemed curious, but then the palace guards likely had their hands full loading the evacuees.  He started forward, prompting his father to keep alongside him with a gentle hand on the elbow; thankfully, he seemed docile enough to go wherever Sehun lead him, even if he did now seem fully aware of his surroundings.

Sehun called out as they neared, though still separated by much of the hall’s length.  “Is everyone else loading onto the ships?”

The two whirled on him, startled, with rifles at the ready.  But, as Sehun noticed with surprise and a sinking feeling, they did not lower them once they saw the source of the address.  They offered no reply, and Sehun’s pace slowed until he was standing still; the men were pacing towards him now, guns still trained on him and his father.

“That’s the prince,” grunted the one on the right in an undertone that echoed down the hall.  Neither had yet to give any sign that they had heard Sehun’s question.

“Who’s the other one?  Is that the king?  He looks like filth,” replied the other.  They were getting closer with every second, and Sehun’s worry hardened to panic.  Something was terribly wrong.

“Well whatever you do, don’t shoot until we find out, we need to get both.”  They were getting closer now, only a couple dozen yards separated them.  “Don’t move,” the right one shouted out, finally acknowledging Sehun, but by know his mind had already entered crisis mode, and the warning went barely registered.  Was Jaehwan trying to kill him?  Using the disarray of the battle to clear house?  Or had the entire disaster been calculated to destroy Paracielle?  It seemed a stretch, but he wasn’t certain he could put anything past the diplomat anymore.  _That doesn’t matter right now_ , his head warned him, and Sehun realised it was right.  An explosion that felt especially near shook the hall, and the massive elaborate chandelier that hung overhead swung dangerously.

“They’re unarmed,” the left soldier said, as he was now close enough to be certain of Sehun and his fathers’ empty hands, but it only made Sehun remember the presence of the pistol tucked awkwardly into the back of his belt, something he had somehow managed to forget in his panic.  He had five bullets still, but he’d have to get it out and up and shoot both of them before either of them could shoot him or his father, and even if it was somehow realistic, his stomach turned again at the thought of killing either man.  He would freeze up again, no doubt, and they’d gun him and his father down.  There were doorways lining the sides of the hall that branched off to elsewhere in the palace, with one not too far from where he stood, but Sehun wasn’t optimistic about reaching it before the soldiers could get off a shot each.  Outside, the battle continued to rage, the tremors of stray shots hitting the palace seemingly growing closer, but in Sehun’s mind everything grew utterly silent.

An idea struck him.  Just the barest seed of a hope, but it might just be enough.  His body stilled, waiting to take action.  He tried to non-verbally signal his father, to tell him to duck when necessary or at least somehow warn him that he was planning something, but the man was paying him no attention; Sehun wasn’t even certain the presence of hostile soldiers had even piqued his interest.  He would just have to hope he drew their fire, he would focus on dodging the initial salvo, and then will hopefully have bought enough time for him to shove his father towards the doorway on their right.  The soldiers were still getting nearer; he would have to act now or miss his chance. 

Luck was on his side, for at that exact moment the tremors that had been growing nearer suddenly tore into a hall, a percussive explosion ringing around them as a shell punched through the ceiling at the far end, blowing apart a not insignificant amount of the structure along with it.  All four of them were far enough away to be spared any direct debris, but it startled both of the soldiers just enough that their heads began to turn involuntarily to look behind themselves, and the barrels of their rifles lowered just a few inches, but it was the exact opportunity Sehun needed.  Before their attention had even returned to him, the pistol was firm in his palm and being raised in front of him.  As they turned back, they saw the weapon outstretched and began to flinch away from the coming shot, but Sehun’s sights did not step on them, but continued rising up, until they were fixed on the chain that dangled the enormous chandelier that hung overtop the soldiers’ heads.  The first shot missed, but the second struck true —Sehun wished Jongdae could have been there to see it— and the chandelier was sent plummeting down.  Sehun did not wait as the two men dove to avoid it, turning immediately on his heels towards the door he had noted earlier, this time keeping Jongin’s pistol firmly in hand.  Having it had been a good call, and he made a mental note to remember to find some way to express his gratitude to Jongin once they got out.  With his free hand he reached to grab his father’s arm to pull him along, but found the man, though seemingly still not fully cognisant of their situation, was keeping up of his own accord.

The cacophonous screech of metal and crystal crashing and twisting against the marble floor chased them out of the hall, the scattered tinkle of glass nipping at their heels.  They would have to use another entrance to the grounds, but at least Sehun could by them some time with his superior knowledge of the layout, weaving through the rooms and corridors between them and the next nearest exit, dogged closely by his father.  Through a salon, down a staircase, through a hall, cut through a dining room, yet another hall… _Jaehwan better hope he’s on the_ Majestic _because if I get on the deck of the_ Anteron _and see him, I’m throwing him over…_ but before he could dwell on it, they were there: one of the lesser atria that opened onto the main courtyard.  He could see the doorway; it looked as though it had taken a direct hit.  The door itself was nowhere to be seen, and the frame was now more of a gaping hole in the wall, blocked partially by a pile of rubble at the base but leaving more than enough room for them to pass.  Sehun let his father go first as he kept an eye out for their pursuers, and once the man was through Sehun scrambled afterwards, ignoring the way the shattered masonry sliced at his hands reached to pull him over and out, leaving them dusty and bloodied.  But that fell to the back of his mind as he took in the state of the grounds.

It looked positively apocalyptic; the rain continued to beat down in amounts Sehun had never before experienced, flooding the craters that pocked the once pristine lawns.  When lightning illuminated the courtyard, he could see that the palace itself was in even worse shape.  Sehun felt immense relief that he had not elected to try to reach the _Anteron_ via one of the palace wings, as both laid in varying states of ruin: the left was entirely collapsed in its midsection, as well as many other points of impact that had severely compromised the structure; the right was similarly damaged with the added damnation of a fire that was quickly spreading alongside it, flames spilling out from the openings that had once been windows, their reflected light dancing on the mud that the lawns had become.  As ambivalent as he felt towards Paracielle, seeing his home in ruin stuck in his throat.  Even his father stood motionless, taking in the desolation with a look of absolute shock.  The _Anteron_ , at least, seemed to remain somehow unharmed where it sat on the very edge of the island; the _Majestic_ was nowhere to be seen, and Sehun hoped that meant it had already departed. 

Another explosion tore into the wing opposite them, and Sehun realised his foolishness in gaping for even this long.  “C’mon,” he said, beckoning for his father to follow him, and was taken aback when the man nodded silently in response, the first instance of him giving any acknowledgement that he was with another person.  It was a start, but Sehun had no time to bask in relief, and set out at a jog that quickly became a sprint towards where the _Anteron_ waited, his father right behind him.

 At first, he tried to stick to the slight cover offered by the remnants of the north wing, but it was clearly the same route the evacuees had taken, and the many footprints on the wet grass had turned it into a trail of mud that threatened to pull the shoes from his feet with each step.  Worse still, it was now heavily scattered with rubble and it was a constant effort not to break his ankle as he ran.  The two factors conspired to slow their pace considerably, something that was fast becoming intolerable considering how the exploding shell impacts were getting closer and closer to where the _Anteron_ waited.  _Oh damn it all_.  He broke from the cover of the wall, entering a dead sprint.  He skirted the edge of the craters carefully, eyeing the pools of water that threatened to drown anyone unlucky enough to be swallowed up.  The shells continue to fall around them, and Sehun did his best to ignore, to not think about how much closer that last one had sounded or about the deluge of wet sod that rained down after each close impact.  His father was still almost by his size, keeping remarkable pace.  He could see the figures waiting beside the _Anteron_ now; they had pulled it as close as possible to the edge, where it waited precariously.  Six —no, eight— sailors were waiting, ready to pull it over the edge the moment Sehun and his father were onboard, and Jongin was there too, arm outstretched as though it would help him pull Sehun in faster.  He wasn’t far though; Sehun was getting close enough now to make out Jongin’s face, to see him flinch as another artillery round struck where Sehun had just been a few seconds before.  They were almost there—

He didn’t even hear it; the only warning was the sudden change from concern to terror on Jongin’s face. The gunshot must have come at the exact same moment as one of the explosions, or a boom of thunder, or one of the guns firing— he only felt the sudden agonizing bite of a bullet tearing through his thigh.  It happened midsprint, and when that foot made contact once more with the wet earth, it gave way almost immediately.  The inertia of his run sent him rolling violently through the mud.  The world spun around him, mud and sky and ships and fire, all an incomprehensible swirl of destruction, until he finally tumbled to a halt.  The mud was in his eyes, in his mouth, and, most painfully, in the hole that now passed through his leg.  He had rolled so far it took him a moment to realize which direction he was facing, and that he was not looking back towards the direction they had been running from, and he saw now the source of the bullet.  The two soldiers —how’d he been so stupid as to forget about them?— where running across the grounds towards them.  One of them was raising his rifle to fire mid-sprint, and Sehun realised now that he was no longer holding the pistol, that he must have dropped it in his fall.  The soldier’s barrel was aimed squarely at him, and he was getting closer every second.  The gunshot finally sounded, and Sehun clenched his eyes closed, ready to become nothing.  Jongin’s face swam into his mind’s eye, frozen in the same look of terrified panic that Sehun had last glimpsed, understanding it now to be Jongin’s response to seeing him gunned down _.  Not that.  Not like that_ , he fought in his mind, banishing the image to be replaced with another: Jongin smiling, Jongin grinning widely with perfect lips and creased eyes, frozen mid-laugh, windswept hair draped lazily over his forehead.  _His_ Jongin…

But then, in the nanoseconds it had taken him to conjure this image, to pore over its perfection and to mourn its finality, he realised abruptly that no second bullet had struck him.  Perhaps he was already dead, that he just hadn’t felt the final bullet?  Is this what death was?  Nothing but blackness and the face of whom you left behind?  The thought was bittersweet; he could not think of a better memory to cling to as he drifted the seas of eternity, but then all he could think of were the lost opportunities, how little time they’d had.  These complex emotions and half-formed thoughts raced through his head.  Perhaps this is what they meant, when they referred to one’s life flashing before their eyes in their final moments.  He had no notion of how long it had been since the shot —it could have been hours, or it could have been thousandths of a second.   But then it fell into place.  He knew he could not be dead; his thigh still was throbbing in agony.  So what had happened to the second bullet?

Reluctantly, he opened his eyes.  The other soldier was still running nearer, was aiming his gun too, and he was not far from where he had just been when Sehun had last looked.  It could only have been two or three seconds, so then where was the one that had fired? 

But then he noticed the scarlet and navy lump crumpled several yards away, and things clicked into place.  He had not been the one pulling the trigger; he had been the target.  As if to punctuate this thought, another shot cracked, then another, and a third, and the remaining soldier tumbled to the ground. 

“Come on,” a voice shouted, and a hand was thrust in his face.  Sehun blinked blearily, mud still clouding his eyes, but as he took the proffered hand that helped haul him to his feet, he realized both and the voice had belonged to his father.  “Can you walk?”  Sehun nodded, though in truth he strongly doubted his current abilities; even standing on it made him feel as though he might vomit, and he feared even opening his mouth to say as much would provide the window his stomach needed to betray him.  “Here,” his father grunted, hooking one of Sehun’s arms over his shoulders, setting out at as quick a limp as Sehun could manage while still remaining upright.  The blood loss was beginning to make Sehun feel drowsy and his movements were growing languid, but his father continued their pace.  His father’s sudden stirring from his fugue state was jarring, but it seems it was not complete, as the man continued to mumble next to Sehun’s ear.  Only snatches of sentences were reaching Sehun: apologies and regrets, contrition for things that had happened long ago.  _Now why was he talking about that now?_   With each second it sounded further and further away, until he couldn’t even be certain they were real anymore, more like they were a dream that he was struggling to recall the following morning.  It felt as though he had fallen into one of the craters, the mud closing around him, covering his eyes, ears, mouth.  He became vaguely aware of being handed off to someone —Jongin, he knew, from the familiarity of the grip holding him upright.  After that, the mud swallowed him entirely.

 


	13. An Ending

Perhaps he had been wrong before.  Perhaps this was death; nothing but mud, an ocean of mud, thick and heavy, that surrounded one so entirely they could no longer be sure of an up or down.  There was almost a security to it; encasing him, keeping him safe and suspended.  There were voices sometimes, voices that penetrated the sludge; they were unintelligible, muffled murmuring at the borders of his awareness, but they were there.  Figures, too, ghosted at the edges of his mind.  Mostly Jongin, present but somehow separate, as though he were looking in on Sehun through a window, asking him to leave, to come back.  Sehun would soon enough, he was sure, but not just yet.  At other times it was Zitao, or Chanyeol, or Junmyeon, or Baekhyun. 

Only once did his father come, but unlike Jongin or the others, he seemed fully present, as though he were right there, adrift with Sehun.  He looked himself; groomed and regal, grey at the temples but far handsomer than he had ever looked in life, and belatedly Sehun realised it was due to the fact that he was smiling, if a little sadly.  At first, he had repeated the same things he had been saying before, apologies for things Sehun did not remember, but then he had addressed Sehun directly.  Told him he was proud, that he was happy he had not totally destroyed his son’s opportunity to be happy.  That he loved Sehun —all of him— and always would.

His father’s presence didn’t grace him in the mud again after that, but his words echoed around Sehun long after he’d gone.  Perhaps it was time to leave… soon. 

Soon for sure.

 

 

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When his eyes finally opened, it was not grey muck that surrounded him, but blinding white.  As he blinked the sleep from his eyes, he saw with better focus that it was white linens that surrounded him; his face was buried in bedsheets.  He wasn’t even certain where he was, but every inch of his body was refusing to move.  He could take a few more minutes… yes, a few more minutes, and then he would find out what was going on. 

Voices cut through his stupor, voices from within the same room.  “Has he stirred yet?”  That was Yixing’s, he knew. 

“No.”  The reply was small, Sehun almost didn’t recognise it as Jongin’s.

“I told you, he’s not in any danger.  He lost a lot of blood, but he just needs to rest.  And so do you, it’s been four days—“

“I’ve slept.”

“In a bed?  Or in that chair?”

There was no reply to that.  Deciding it was time to make his consciousness known, Sehun willed his body to stir.  He stretched his body out, and in doing so became conscious of the bandages applied to his thigh, which, now that he moved it was admittedly tender but far from excruciating.  “G’morning,” he mumbled sleepily, and almost laughed when he was greeted by what sounded remarkably like Jongin falling out of his chair. 

“You’re awake?!”  A hand soon found his, even among the sheets.

“Mmm,” Sehun hummed, and —though the one hand never left his— another gently lowered the sheets that had gotten pulled up over his head, revealing Jongin’s face looking over him, relieved but still tarnished by concern.  After that, the rest of the room swam into detail as well; he was in the _Anteron_ ’s sick bay.  “The ship got away then?”  It was dumb, a dumb question, obviously they had gotten away; he realised that before he had even finished asking it, but Jongin gave no indication that he minded. 

“We pulled you on board and the sailors pushed off.  It worked perfectly, and the _Undaunted_ made it away safe as well.  When— when what happened to you happened, the whole ship was livid, not just the crew but everyone.  I thought they were going to start throwing the Corbenicians overboard; Yifan says he saw Kyungsoo dangle one over the side by his ankles but I couldn’t tell if he was serious or not.  Chanyeol locked them all in the brig, not just the soldiers but the diplomats too.  But once we’d landed and started to piece things together, we realized all of the soldiers that had arrived with the delegation were accounted for.  Chanyeol released them, but we aren’t honestly certain whether Jaehwan’s camp was behind it, or if it was just that someone else wanted it to look that way.”

Now that he was out of the moment, Sehun could admit even he considered it suspect for Jaehwan to order his assassination by two soldiers in full Corbenician regalia.  But if it wasn’t Jaehwan, it could have been anyone, and Sehun wasn’t certain that was more reassuring.

“We’re moored in Lutetia right now, the Corbenician government is giving sanctuary to the Paracielle refugees.”  That surprised Sehun; even if he suspected Jaehwan was innocent, he wasn’t sure how he felt being laid up within the Corbenician capital.  As if recognising Sehun’s expression, Jongin continued: “It’s okay though.  As he tells it, Jaehwan has talked his government into providing us all asylum for the time being— the press has been treating us like heroes, his government wouldn’t dare do anything even if they wanted, and besides, Zitao’s had the palace guards watching the _Anteron_ day and night… actually, he’ll want to know you’re awake, he’s been watching your room during the nights so he’s asleep right now, but maybe… Yixing, will you get Zitao?”

The doctor nodded.  “Are you hungry Sehun?  I’ll bring something to eat too, you need to rebuild your strength,” he followed, leaving without waiting for a reply. 

“So what happened?  Does anyone know?”  Sehun sat up further in the bed, and became almost immediately aware of the hunger gnawing at his stomach, and was immensely pleased Yixing was bringing food.

Jongin had seated himself on the edge of Sehun’s bed, and was now using his hand to absentmindedly play with Sehun’s fingers.  “No one fully knows.  The newspapers everywhere are in chaos.  It’s been a total embarrassment; it’s totally unknown whether someone fired first intentionally, or whether someone simply mistook the thunder for the enemy firing and thought they were merely defending themselves.  Everyone’s pointing fingers at everyone else: Pruce is saying Britain just used it as an excuse to destroy the fleet of their closest competitor, Britain is saying it was protecting Paracielle’s sovereignty, Russia is saying the other two were excluding it from decision-making.  It’s just a mess.”

Sehun’s face paled.  “Is there a war now?”  He couldn’t even imagine a full-scale war with weapons of that level of destructive capability.  Paracielle was razed sheerly by collateral damage; entire cities could be erased if some Admiral decided it prudent.

“No, no,” Jongin reassured him, giving his hand a squeeze.  “Every country is facing backlash.  Britian doesn’t look like it knows what it’s doing, and its people don’t want to get tangled in a continental war.  In Pruce, the parliament is demanding more control of the military, and Russia just isn’t prepared for a large-scale war with one of the other powers.  Everyone’s so busy trying to put out the fires at home, they can’t even think of war.  Actually, Corbenice is doing fairly well; none of the papers have picked up on the fact that Jaehwan intentionally triggered a diplomatic crisis, they’re all focussing on how, while the other three were tearing each other apart, the Corbenician delegation and the pretender king were evacuating the innocents.  Jaehwan’s been positively gleeful about having the moral high ground, he’s been all over the papers condemning everyone, it’s actually been a little sickening.  He’s been wanting to see you.  I told him to fuck off.”

Sehun laughed, his heart fluttering with the sideways glance Jongin shot him.  “Still though, I can’t keep him away for ever—“

“I understand.  I’ll see him soon.”  All things considered, everything had turned out far better than he could have considered.  Paracielle was gone, but they’d all escaped with their lives.  None of the powers looked like they were on the verge of going to war— in fact, if anything, the event seems to have pushed everyone back from the brink once they saw what war could look like.  “So everyone got away fine?”

Jongin’s face fell.  “Not everyone.”  Sehun’s gut clenched.  Somehow he knew what he was going to hear before Jongin said it.  “Your father… he took a bullet too.  He lasted long enough to get you to me, but… he didn’t make it Sehun, I’m sorry."

It took a moment for that knowledge to settle.  It didn’t fit, it didn’t fit right in how things were supposed to play out.  He had come back for his father, he had saved him, had dragged him out of that crumbling palace, so how had it ended with his father dying for him?  It wasn’t fair, it wasn’t _right_ , and the injustice of it choked him.  His father had never been a good one, but it hurt all the more because he would now never get the chance to become one.  _I don’t even remember what he said to me in those last moments_.  Tears burned in his eyes, but Jongin’s hand was still there for him, and he resolved to never let it go.

 

 

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If Massalia had been impressive, Lutetia was overwhelming.  The tight winding streets of the port city were replaced with grids of broad boulevards trafficked by more people than Sehun could have ever even imagined existed.  He, Zitao, and the two accompanying guards had taken a carriage from Anteron’s mooring to the government building that housed Jaehwan’s offices, and he had spent the entire trip peering out the coach’s window.  Even the horses were new to him —he had seen pictures of course, but the reality was quite intimidating, and truth be told he was nervous to go near them at all.  Jongin had laughed when he admitted as much before departing; he’d said, _just wait until you see an elephant_.  Sehun wasn’t sure how he’d feel about that, but the underlying promise filled him with joy.  

“We’re here,” Zitao announced as they pulled up outside an enormous building, all pristine white pillars and angles like the ancients had made.  The guards exited first, followed by Zitao, and Sehun stepped down last, his movements awkward and slower than he would have liked as he took the steps down to the pavement.  Zitao watched the entire time with feigned inattention, even though Sehun knew the Lionheart was waiting to intervene if he so much as stumbled.  He tried to dismiss the minor irritation; Zitao was, after all, just trying to help.  But Sehun could walk well enough, especially considering he had only been awake a few days, and Yixing was optimistic his limp would not be permanent.

Even emerging from a carriage with guards, no one paid him any mind.  Jongin had brought him some more contemporary formal clothing so he would not draw so much attention.  The monochrome colour scheme was a little drab, and the new style of cut took a little getting used to, but he supposed it was not so bad.  And it was not as if he’d be wearing such clothing every day.

Attended by his companions, he ascended the steps to the building’s entrance, entering a large atrium that buzzed with bureaucrats and administrators going about their business.  A young man, Sehun’s age, perhaps a little younger even, approached them immediately upon entering.

“Good day, monsieur Oh, I’m thrilled to see you on your feet again and I know Minister Lee will be as well.  If you would follow me, I have been instructed to take you to his offices.”

Sehun nodded his assent, and followed the boy’s lead through the building.  He spoke as he guided them, providing a little information on the use of this room there, the responsibilities of that department, the history of a painting that hung in one of the halls.  It was more pleasant than silence, and Sehun just nodded attentively as he listened.  In truth, he was amazed by the scale of the bureaucracy; he had of course been accustomed to a household of only a couple hundred heads, whereas these people somehow managed to run a nation of several million.  Even when the Ohs had still run Corbenice, the civil service had been more regional than anything, and those involved in running affairs nationally were few.

“This is Minister Lee’s office, I beg you forgive the chaos, it’s been a busy few days,” their guide apologized, as he led them through a door into a large open room filled with desks and clerks hunched dutifully over them, scrawling letters at a rapid pace, or poring over stacks of papers that would put some books to shame.  Others were in murmured conversation, or striding around the room, retrieving documents dispersed over the many workstations.  The assistant lead them weaving between the guests, until they were outside a door to what presumed was Jaehwan’s private office.  He was ushered inside, Zitao accompanying him while the other two waited outside.  

His suspicions were confirmed as he immediately recognized Jaehwan seated behind the large desk at the far end of the room.  The surface was buried in documents and notes, to the point Sehun could not understand how it was in the slightest bit workable, but it seemed to be causing the minister no irritation.  

“Ah, Sehun, hello, please have a seat.”  He did not rise to greet his guest, but then Sehun was hardly shocked.  This no doubt satisfied Zitao, who looked as though he would sever his hand at the wrist if he even moved to shake Sehun’s hand.  Whether Corbenice had been behind the attempt of not, the Lionheart was not nearly ready to be trusting any time soon.  “I’m pleased you were able to come, I’ve been locked down for the past few days.  It’s been a real breakthrough for my office lately; with the outrage being faced by the other powers, they’re having their arms twisted into pursuing new modes of diplomacy, and my department has been preparing a proposal that we’re very excited about.”  Sehun took a seat opposite the desk, while Zitao remained standing behind him.  “In the following couple days, Corbenice is going to propose a permanent gathering of representatives from all the different nations of the continent, to oversee diplomacy and resolve disputes.  Not just the major powers either, but all the others.  And we’re going to propose it all be centered in Paracielle.

 _Ah._   So that was it.  Jaehwan caught the realization in his eye.  “You’re right, it’s not wholly philanthropic, but if we can gain greater legitimacy and urge international cooperation at the same time, is that really so awful?  We still intend to honour our agreement with you too; now that the conference is, let us say, resolved, we’re prepared to you to officially denounce your claim.”

Sehun had suspected that was the real purpose of the meeting, to discuss his final abdication.  Junmyeon had been parading a string of newspaper clippings before his eyes the last few days, most of them opinion pieces on whether an at least partial restoration would be so bad.  It confused Sehun; if anything he had only demonstrated how little he should be involved in ruling, but he supposed those details didn’t trickle down as well as ones about selfless, handsome princes.  He could sympathize with Jaehwan, he really could.  For every moment that Sehun went without officially renouncing his claim, he was a possible threat to the Republic.  But the truth was that Sehun was eager to get it over with as well, wanted to lift the last remaining weight of the crown resting on his head and get the _Anteron_ back in the air.

“How soon can we make it official?” Sehun asked earnestly, and for the first time since meeting him, Jaehwan gave him a genuine cordial smile.  

“A couple days.  I’ll set the wheels in motion.”

 

 

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The sun was bright again today.  What few clouds were in the sky were distant, white wisps of cotton on the horizon.  Way below, rolling farmland unfolded to form a rumpled patchwork quilt of greens and yellows.  From where he lay in the rigging, the breeze tousled his hair, forcing him to continuously flick it out of his eyes.  He hadn’t even realized how long it had been getting.

They had finally left that morning, the last of their business in Lutetia resolved.  Sehun had formally renounced his claim before the National Congress, and visited the former inhabitants of Paracielle to ensure they were being settled well.  He had told Jaehwan that the pension he had been promised by the government should go to them instead, and was pleased to note the man had been sneering increasingly less whenever he was around Sehun.  Junmyeon had not enjoyed the Republic as much, however, and was accompanying them on to London where he intended to set himself up.  Zitao was going to stay on, however; Sehun had argued quite ferociously to dispel any notions Zitao had of any remaining obligation to Sehun, but even he had no desire or illusions of sending Zitao away entirely.  The former Lionheart had actually been managing to ingratiate himself fairly well with the crew now that Sehun’s safety was no longer at stake, to the point that Sehun was growing concerned at how well Zitao and Baekhyun were getting along— a dangerous friendship, if ever there was one.

With the breeze, his hair fell back into his eyes once again, but this time a set of fingers brushed it gently aside.  “Your hair’s getting long,” murmured Jongin, whose lap was currently cradling Sehun’s head.  “I think you need to get it cut.”

Sehun squinted up at the face that eclipsed the sun behind it, producing an appropriate halo effect, donning an expression of mock outrage.  “Already picking out my flaws, huh?  Well who’s going to cut it?”  Actually, that was a good question.  Who did cut the crews’ hair?  Unbidden, a mental image flashed before his eyes of Yifan clutching a pair of scissors, and Sehun shuddered.

“Minseok, actually,” Jongin replied.  “But I think you should let me do yours.”

“No way.”

“Come on,” urged Jongin, barely holding back his grin, “I think I alone could really bring out your inner beauty.  Who knows, I might actually be really good—“

“I’d probably end up bald.”

“Well, I’d still love you if you were bald.”  There was that effervescence again, in his chest.  He wasn’t sure he’d ever get tired of hearing it.

“You’d better,” Sehun grunted, wiggling his head to a more comfortable place on Jongin’s thigh, his eyelids falling closed to block out the sunlight.  Jongin’s fingers returned to his forehead, brushing the stray hairs aside, and Sehun mumbled happily, “I suppose I’d probably love you if you were bald too.”

“I know,” came Jongin’s voice, and he could hear the smile behind it.  Enjoying the fingers brushing through his hair, Sehun’s thoughts turned to London.  From what he had heard, he couldn’t even begin to prepare himself for what he’d see.  Jongin had been excitedly making all kinds of promises about the things he would be showing Sehun, and he could feel nothing other than contentment at having his future entirely open. 

Tomorrow could bring anything, and he would have Jongin there to share it with him.  

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Well that's it. Almost exactly a year and a half since I started but now its done, my first completed fic. There's a lot I'm still not pleased with about it, a lot I will never be pleased with, but I think it has its strong aspects too, and I hope whoever elects to read this enjoys it. Writing is practice and I can use as much as I can get, so I welcome critiques if people have them, and above all, thanks for making it this far!


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